Flask
by Crimsom-Wyvern
Summary: Alternative Universe! - A random event can have far reaching consequences. What would have happened to Emma and Taylor had the former triggered during the worst day of her life? How would have life progressed? And above all else, how would have that affected Taylor? Find out that and more. Status: ARC 1 - Brockton Asunder: Finished!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Here we are, back again at the Worm fandom! Wyvern and the Warhawk bringing to you our newest plot bunny! As always we hope you enjoy this little snippet, featuring an all too different Emma and all too familiar Sophia.**

**AtW: I kind of figured Sophia would have a full blown psychotic break in this kind of situation, seeing as how it was strongly implied she killed and tortured a few people. That and she wasn't exactly stable to begin with. But, hey, hope you guys like it! (Also, Miss Militia is Best Girl!)**

**Wyvern: That was never up for debate!  
**

****  
Emma Barnes was many things.

She was a daughter. 

She was a sister.

She was a friend.

But above all else, she had once been a victim. An innocent tossed about by the cruel winds of an uncaring world. Forced to live through a nightmare which to this very day still had her wake, drenched in sweat and silently screaming in the middle of the night. It scared her to think what sort of person she might have become if things had not happened as they had.

You see, there is a certain phenomena known to the world. One widely known about since the appearance of a golden man over 30 years about.

Super powers.

The ability to do what would normally be impossible.

Emma had always known about them. Growing up watching cape fights on television, reading about them on websites. She had even been to a press conference or two to meet with the local heroes. They'd always been a constant presence in her world, a reassurance that no matter how bad things turned out there would be still those willing to stand up for others.

But then the Alley came and with it the death of such naive and innocent concepts.

They'd dragged her family out of the car. Beat up her father. Threatened to do unspeakable things to her and her sister.

All the while holding a knife to her neck.

She'd cried and whimpered, begging to avoid the inevitable. She'd turned inward and shut the world out. Until she felt the knife slide somewhere she'd never thought she'd feel a weapon.

Her father had tried to fight. But he was a lawyer. Wealthy enough but more importantly _soft_.

The ABB thugs had slammed a crowbar across his face and laughed. Laughed about how they were going to enjoy a taste of white girl pussy and how Emma and her sister would never look at a shrimp dicked Nazi again. She hadn't even had her first kiss, and when she felt the thug's calloused hand in her pants, his hot, fetid breath in her ear stinking of cheap booze, she fought back.

Screaming, she started clawing at his eyes. The knife dug into her thigh, cutting a deep gash into her leg but Emma didn't care. Instead, she managed to turn around and get his nose with her teeth. Grinding her incisors, cartilage and skin broke and tore and she shook her head like a dog. That had probably saved her life, in the end. Freaking out, the thugs began to beat her. Again and again and again they hit her.

Emma's entire world was a song. A symphony of thuds and grunts and screams. She'd felt her ribs break, saw her arm _snap_ and twist. And then it was all gone. There was a crumpled pile of men in front of her, she wasn't _broken_ anymore, and she was crying.

They'd all lived, her family that was. The ABB… none of them were alive by the time they got to the hospital. Her family had called the police, her mother cradling her father's bleeding head while her sister just rubbed her back. It took a few days, but, eventually, it was the PRT and not the police that came to check up on them.

In exchange for Panacea looking them over, Emma had gotten a CAT scan. It turns out that you got super powers from things going really wrong. Who knew all it took was one bad day?

Days blurred into weeks.

Weeks into months.

The PRT hadn't been too keen on letting a traumatized girl with super powers walk around without having guarantees that she wouldn't just snap one day and go on a killing spree. Thankfully, her abilities were pretty straightforward. She could turn into a seven foot tall amazon made of something that looked like diamond. In that state she could flip a truck, was basically immune to anything short of an AT gun, and had a form of combat precognition. Or, at least, that's what the Protectorate decided after a week long battery of tests.

Breaker 7, Brute 6, Thinker 3.

Provisionally, at least. The Brute weight machine was down for repairs and when the AT guns started leaving scratches they stopped. In her human form she was, roughly, a Brute 2 and a Thinker 1. She could get vague impulses that she _needed_ to transform and her skin took a lot more force to damage. But, ultimately, it took transforming to get her powers to strut their stuff. Of course, it wasn't perfect.

When she was transformed it was… hard to stay in control.

Everything just seemed so much _more_. And everything seemed dangerous. It was a struggle not to start screaming. Apparently, she wasn't unique. Powers always comes with baggage.

Gallant had picked up on this, being an empath and all, so the PRT "politely suggested" she see a therapist. Their shortlist had even mostly been independent doctors. A month on she'd even been able to use her powers without having to crush the gut wrenching fear that had defined her life ever since she'd killed half a dozen men because they'd gotten high and drunk and decided they wanted to stick their dick in something.

She still sometimes flinched when any man but her father moved too quickly.

She still sometimes flinched when he hugged her.

Basically, it was all… a work in progress.

Life had moved on, as it inevitably did. Emma had changed a great deal, witnessed too much to remain the same blissfully unaware waif of a girl she had been. It hadn't been easy. But it was an oddly easy first step. She had super powers, she'd always wanted to be a hero, and when the soft, kind eyes of Miss Militia had approached her about joining, she'd leapt at the chance to say yes. Her father had actually had to get her _mother_ to convince her to at least read over the contract first.

It had been signed and sealed inside of a week.

There had been a lot to it. The offer of training, of therapy with someone who _understood_, the simple fact that she'd get to be a _Hero_. But, in the end, it had been Shadow Stalker who'd convinced her.

During a walk through of the Ward's area of the Rig they'd bumped into one another, literally, outside of the restroom. Now, Shadow Stalker was a bitch. An utter, total bitch. But after she'd finished snapping at her to watch where she was going, Stalker had realized who Emma was. And then she'd freaking _gushed_. It had only been for about thirty seconds, but Emma had a _fan_. Weirdly, Sophia, Shadow Stalker's civilian name, was more impressed by how she'd bitten a guy's nose off than anything else.

These days she felt surer of herself, her powers going a long way to help her feel safe in a world where monsters walked the earth. And it was all thanks to Vista and Shadow Stalker and Miss Militia and even Glory Girl, of all people, that she could sleep most nights.

Life was… good.

Enjoyable even and awesome at times!

Yet, sometimes Emma felt like she was missing something. A piece of the puzzle that made up "Emma Barnes" left long forgotten, a void that just didn't seem to be filled no matter how many hours she agonized over it.

There was just something… someone?

"Emms! What are you doing over there!?" A cheerful holler broke her reverie, food tray nearly slipping through her fingers as she stumbled.

She leveled an annoyed stare at the smiling blonde.

"What the hell, Vicki. Don't scream like that out of nowhere."

"Aww, but you were all busy in la-la-land. You get _boring _like that." The other girl pouted.

She wasn't convinced, however.

"Uhuh. And that wouldn't have anything to do with Dennis and his friend over there? I thought Amy already scolded you about trying to set up double dates. Didn't you get caught making out last time?"

That got a blush from the, for now, taller girl.

"Shhh!" She hissed. "Do you want the whole school to know?!"

Emma giggled.

"It is an absolute secret. So, of course, everyone already knows Vicki"

The two slipped through the hustle and bustle of the canteen, playfully needling one another as they walked to their usual table. Arcadia wasn't known as the best school of Brockton Bay for nothing after all! The food was top notch, the floors were always clean, and there was a relaxed, though studious atmosphere.

It was calming in a way, dulling the stiff sensation emanating from below Emma's skin. The need to just flex her "muscles" and give in to the feeling of safety. The surety of being incapable of being harmed.

And for the first time in over a year, Emma felt like nothing could ruin her mood.

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

_BEEP!_

Emma nearly jumped when her pocket started blaring an emergency alarm, akin to a siren if much, much quieter. A clarion call that was still just as terrifying. She fumbled for a second, pulling out her cellphone to see its screen had turned bright red, yellow warnings flickering in and out as a map of Brockton Bay appeared on screen.

"Crap. What's going on?" Vicki looked over her shoulder.

Emma stood up in a hurry, running to the exit. Instead of answering she just flashed Victoria the decal on the back of the phone. They both knew what that meant.

She had to meet with the others. Quickly.

The map in her hand had zoomed and shifted, a single red dot marking the location of the distress signal.

Winslow High School.

_'Sophia is in trouble!'_

By the time Emma had arrived, changing into her costume and then hitching a ride with Chris on his hoverboard, the school had been evacuated. Unfortunately, the older Heroes hadn't made it yet. A combination of being on patrol, being out of town, and just plain bad traffic meant that the Wards, who had responded immediately and cohesively, were assembled out in front of Winslow High School while a nervous, overweight school cop was ushering students towards the designated evacuation points with a remarkably commanding voice.

The situation was clearly bad, but experience bore fruit and Gallant needed no time to plan.

"Vista, Kid Win keep the kids moving. Browbeat, Diamond Dust, Aegis with me! Clockblocker, stay behind the formation but stay ready."

There was no time to think, not when their comrade was under attack, or even gather information, really. They could hear the sounds of metal tearing and panicking students. It was time to _act_.

The children split like a tide, Vista using her powers to herd them and Kid Win grabbing their attention from above. Pushing ahead, the rest of their team fell into a rough semicircular formation and moved forward.

With each step, Emma let her control slip a little bit more.

It was a sensation akin to feeling one's muscles clamp up and spasm at the same time. The world became softer, breakable under her feet. Her bones felt leaden and stiff, as if moving around too much would cause them to groan in protest. The transition from her normal self to her breaker state was not particularly pleasant, but training had taught her how to ignore it up to a certain point.

From one step to the next everything came into focus. More real, somehow.

And then, she was _strong_. Clear and shining, like the gemstones she took her name from, she was now easily seven feet tall and looked more like a bodybuilder than a semi professional model. Though, to be fair, she wasn't the only Ward that could do this.

As the group of Wards double timed it down the hallway the sounds of combat grew louder and louder, and then they suddenly grew silent. Holding his fist up, Gallant halted the team.

"I've got two signals. One feels like Stalker. Or, at least, it's pissed off like she usually is. The other one… I can't actually sense its emotions. More, I can feel its presence because it's a hole where I _know_ I can't feel it. We're dealing with a Trump."

The whole team winced. Gallant suddenly cursed and started running.

"I can't feel Sophia anymore!"

Emma cursed too.

"Which way?"

Pointing at a wall vaguely to the left of the group, Emma crossed her arms in front of her and _charged_. The tiled floor shattered under her steps, the metal lockers popped like balloons as they were suddenly smashed aside, and reinforced cement blocks shattered into so much grey dust as she charged through the wall; her white and blue costume showing only the most minute damage.

What she saw, however, stopped her cold.

A pink mass, looking like a giant hunk of moving, _writhing_ bubblegum was slowly engulfing her friend. Long, thin tendrils were wrapped around Sophia's neck and the black girl was turning _blue _while the damn thing slowly pulled itself up her body. Not wasting anytime, Emma looked around and snatched up a broken length of pipe off the ground as the rest of the Wards cleared the corner.

"Fucking Christ."

She thought that was Dennis.

Gallant and Browbeat didn't hesitate. As she rushed forward, makeshift baton in hand, a volley of emotional blasts lanced out at the goo and Browbeat fell in behind her. Swinging the pipe like a bat, the metal shattered when it hit the pink mass but the tumescent abomination was splattered across the wall.

Everyone but Sophia, who was still unconscious, froze. It took a moment for them to realize the mass was reforming, but the second they did Dennis reached out and tapped it; only for nothing to happen. Cussing up a storm, the boy began to beat a hasty retreat while Gallant once more unleashed volley after volley of concussive blasts. The raw kinetic force seemed to keep the goo dispersed, but it was actually _speeding up_. Thicker, ropier tendrils now sliding up Sophia's pants leg and crawling into her clothes.

Catching Browbeat's eyes, Emma gave him a _look_. The brute turned away and, seeing that the slime was on and inside Sophia's clothes, Emma grabbed her pants hem and literally tore the garment off of her unconscious friend. Using the clothes to avoid touching the slime, she managed to get the stuff off Stalker. Balling up the now ruined pair of jeans, Emma scooped Sophia into her arms and _ran_, the mass of gooey tendrils already lashing out at her; diamond turning to skin where they struck.

Seeing this, Browbeat reached out and pulled the thing off her, trusting in his adapted biology to hold firm, and bought Emma enough time to beat a hasty retreat. Forty five seconds later, she had a gym locker torn open and Sophia decent again.

It was at that moment that Emma realized something.

The fighting had stopped.

Sticking her head around the corner, she didn't see anything.

"Shit." She also realized something else just as important. "No coms. Crap."

Not really a _huge_ issue, seeing as how she could just start knocking down walls, but she also didn't want to walk into an ambush. This was a totally unknown situation and she had no idea what kind of cape, if it even was a cape, that they were fighting. A situation they were _explicitly_ ordered to avoid. In fact, there was a whole three chapters in the handbook, complete with graphic descriptions of what went wrong, on how and why to avoid this kind of fight.

It was quiet.

Way too quiet.

And her battle instincts were going _haywire_. They weren't pinging off of any one thing, they couldn't lock onto the Trump, but they were trying to predict around it. That meant she was getting at least half a dozen different impulses on what she should do. In the end, she made a choice.

Emma rushed back down the way she came, once more scooping up her downed teammate, as her skin began hardening back into diamond. She needed to evacuate Sophia before checking back on the others. Browbeat, in particular, could go hours without breathing and Aegis could fly. There was time to double back but Shadow Stalker was still out cold and there were dark, ugly bruises around her neck and legs.

Skidding around a corner, Emma almost slammed head first into Clock.

"Jesus Dennis, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, sorry! Can you blame me? Anyways, Kid Win and Vista are going to provide back up. The cavalry is on the way. Here, give me Stalker. I'll get her to the paramedics and you can go make sure they haven't been drowned in evil bubblegum."

For the first time in her life, Emma actually laughed at one of the boy's stupid jokes.

"Hah! Ok. Be… careful. She's pretty banged up. Good luck."

"Don't worry about me, you're the one who's gonna need it. Don't, uh, don't die."

Shrugging, Emma prevericated.

"I'll try not to."

They didn't have any more time to waste. Neither of them wanted to go forward, neither wanted to go back. Frankly, both of them wanted to get the Hell out of there. But Clockblocker had to do _something_ and Emma could fight; he couldn't. Their choices were made for them. And after transferring Sophia to his shoulders, a fireman's carry, they turned opposite ways and raced off.

Five minutes later, what she found caused her heart to stop cold.

What might have been Aegis, though the mass was a bit too big to fit his frame, and Browbeat were glued to the walls by the slimy substance, Clockblocker was outside coordinating with the police and waiting on reinforcements, and that meant the only ones not currently swimming in goo were Vista and Kid Win. The first because her powers prevented the pink thing from reaching them, and the other who had the long range options needed to avoid getting closer.

A large pink, beach ball looking mass had formed on the wall, Browbeat half sealed by a net of tendrils even then crawling across his torso while a vaguely human shaped lump on the ground would have been a dead ringer for Gallant. Looking around for another makeshift weapon, Emma snatched up a chunk of destroyed locker, a piece with a sharp edge, and rushed over to her blue clad comrade and tried to scrape as much of the goop off as she could.

"Where's Aegis?"

Her voice came out in a hiss but the boy just grunted. Reaching up, he pulled his mask up and she noticed a pink mass trying to crawl into his throat. Gritting her teeth, Emma tore off a chunk of locker and slid it between his lips and the goop.

"Sorry!"

And she really was, Browbeat's lips were torn and bloody, but the boy just spat.

"It's fine Diamond. I'll heal. And Aegis got punted by the thing when he tried to free Gallant. After that, he went to go and find the rest of you. Watch out for any signs it's tensing up. It did that and then shot out a dozen tentacles with large balls on the end."

Loud and wet, a sudden squelching noise was all she needed to hear to move.

Dropping to the floor, she rolled as several pink tentacles slammed into the lockers. At least two full yards past where she'd been standing. With another squelch, they began to slowly retract, the metal lockers now smashed to bits.

'That… that would have killed me!'

If the attack disabled her power first, those tentacles would punch straight through her body!

Emma hesitated before grabbing her makeshift knife. She was panicking a bit, all of her progress had been reversed, and Browbeat was even more covered than before. He was trying to tear free, but with zero leverage and how much give in the pink goo there was nothing he could do. It was then that the other two Wards, who had been trying to free Gallant, suddenly increased the furor of their activity.

Vista was faring much better, having warped herself out of the way of the attack. Emma shuddered to think about what one good hit from those tendrils would do to the smaller girl. Fortunately, she wasn't the most experienced Ward for show. With that said, the pink mass was now actively clawing across the ground towards her and nothing Vista did seemed to slow it down. Thankfully, she was still fully capable of running away.

A well placed blaster shot was all the confirmation she needed that Kid Win was still in the game.

The energy blast rippled through the pink mass. Then another. Then another. Kid Win's dual pistols were lancing out with pinpoint accuracy and burning neat holes right through the stuff, even starting small fires when it punched through the hostile and into something flammable. What really scared Emma was the fact those guns were humming a way she knew meant they were set to "kill". It was a small mercy they weren't set to "fuck your car". Yet.

Moving quickly, Emma snatched her makeshift knife off the ground and went back to scraping the evil bubble gum off Browbeat. Kid Win's cover fire proving more than sufficient as the enemy tried and failed to move away from the blasts. Though, to be fair, it was something like a horrifically twitchy shuddering jump.

Thank the big golden naked guy he was such a good shot.

Very suddenly, Aegis and Clockblocker slid through the hole Emma had punched in the wall earlier.

"Guys! Stalker's up and moving! She phased out of there and started screaming!"

'Fuck.'

Emma liked Sophia, even enjoyed her company to a degree. And the rest of the Wards had profusely thanked her for cooling the black girl's temper, even if only somewhat. But that didn't change something very, very important.

Sophia Hess was a raging, psychotic _bitch_.

When a black mass dropped from the ceiling and shoved a large, broken hunk of metal into the tumescent center of the pink goo she knew this was going to end badly. Sophia phased back into reality when the metal was about six inches inside the mass, meaning momentum had the attack push about a quarter of the way through the thing before it was fully solidified. Emma stopped watching, grabbed her shard of locker with both hands, and slashed at the tendrils holding Browbeat with all the strength she could. Two wet squelches announced her success and, grabbing BB as he fell, she began to drag him away even as her powers started to flicker in and out.

Looking up, she just managed to catch sight of the whole mass shuddering and splitting open into various tendrils. Sophia was repeatedly driving what looked like a _shiv_ into the thing. All the while frothing at the mouth and screaming in rage.

When the thing's tendrils suddenly wrapped around Sophia, Emma knew something horrible was about to happen. With barely any time to scream a warning to Aegis, who stood the closest to them, the pinkish mass pulled Sophia off and slammed her against the wall.

More specifically, the very solid metal lockers lining the walls.

This time, Emma screamed in horror.

But perhaps not as loudly as Sophia, whose body had left a dent on the jagged metal.

"Sophia!"

Answering her payers, Aegis came out of nowhere and slammed into the thing like a torpedo. Trump or not, there was no way to negate momentum, and as such it threw the thing off the floor and down the hallway.

Unfortunately, Aegis went with it.

The diamond-skinned cape wracked her brains for a solution.

Kid Win couldn't shoot it or else he'd risk hitting Aegis too. Turning back to Browbeat, Emma made to grab him until she noticed that his body was now fully covered in a thin layer of the stuff. Smothering a scream, she watched as the now cocooned hero was dragged? Carried? Whatever the Hell that counted as, but the pink stuff's tendrils were moving BB in the general direction of the central mass.

Even worse, she noticed Gallant and Aegis were now being bound together and then _even worse_ the pink mass began to shudder again.

"_Fuck you!"_

Stalker's scream of fury split the air again. Utterly and totally enraged, she made to charge again even as she half floated off the ground, flickering in and out of solidity, before being suddenly stopped when CB grabbed her arm.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing!"

"Get the _fuck_ off me!"

She was spitting, snarling, and utterly berserk. So he let Stalker go. And as she turned to charge back at the pink mass, Clockblocker reared back and _smacked_ the ever loving shit out of her. Sophia Hess was now frozen in a time stopped lock of shock, surprise, and rage that left her looking constipated. Frankly, Emma knew it was the best thing for Sophia right now.

It was… clear. The girl's back was a _ruin_. Her flesh was torn, what looked like a chunk of metal was lodged in her back, and her shoulders drooped unnaturally. Even frozen in time, wisps of shadow frozen in the aether, it was a wonder, a horror how the girl had continued to rage. Emma feared and was in awe of Sophia in that moment. Rank, naked hatred and an unflinching, nearly suicidal will to kill her foe were all Sophia offered to her enemy.

Impressive, in a twisted way.

As the moment of drama passed, the three captured Wards were secured and the evil bubblegum finished shuddering. And, instead of the expected attack, it let out a burst of air and a… girl fell out.

Utterly featureless, bubblegum pink like the rest of the stuff, and vaguely reminiscent of a human female; no one blinked. Kid Win bored two holes right into the thing's head and Vista warped the space between Emma and the rest of the squad. Even as those smoking holes, each about an inch and a half wide, were slowly closing as burnt, smoking chunks of material was pulled inwards and consumed, repurposed as efficiently as possible. The sight was disturbing and proof that they weren't going to win this fight.

She looked at her squad and Vista pulsed the warp, reminding her of the opening the shaker had created, one the diamond skinned girl desperately took. Two steps later they were falling back into the hallway leading out of the god forsaken school.

A terrifying, bone chilling scream was all the warning they had before the… girl thing burst through the wall they had just passed through. The group paused their retreat and spread out. The blob was moving fast enough they weren't eager to give it their back and that meant they needed to try and slow it down.

Not abandoning their teammates was a plus, too.

"What do we do guys? Do you think you can trap it in some time locked debris? Or a locker?" Emma reached out and grabbed Clockblocker's shoulder. "Do you think you're you can stop it?"

A shuffling noise came from where the monster stood. Turning around, she felt her stomach twist into knots at the sheer _wrongness_ of the whole situation. Kid Win's pistols hummed as they charged, the rest of their team simply… taking in what they saw.

It stepped towards them slowly, movements leaden and stiff. More like a mannequin than a real person. Unnaturally long fingers, shuddering, jerking movements, and slowly forming eyes that seemed… dead.

It was an abomination.

"What the hell is that thing!?" Kid Win hissed next to her.

"..."

There was a wet, gurgling noise that no one could make out.

"...ma."

Lips, crude and looking more like a slash through her face, had formed and the words finally grew clear enough to understand.

"E_mm_**a**."

It was unnatural, like the voice of some blind, colorless monstrosity from the deep. Wet and slimy and filled with so much fleshiness. But when the thing started walking again, it started wailing.

"Em_maE_m_**ma**_**Em**m_aE_m**maE**m_ma!_"

She was frozen in place, incapable of moving. Thankfully the rest of the team reacted. Kid Win _lit it the_ _fuck up_ Vista once more warped space so they were outside of the school in three steps, and Clockblocker dragged her away. She couldn't help it. Turning back, she stared in horror as the thing shambled and tripped and fell over its own limbs as it clambered across the debris littered ground. Emma wanted to scream and yell and weep all at once.

'No, no, no. Please it _can't… _please don't be her!'

Her throat was thick but she almost managed to whimper the prayer out. Shutting her eyes, she hardened her heart and thought of her comrades. Of how they'd been beaten and battered.

Emma still stumbled when she heard the _thing's_ final cry.

"E_m_**m**a! h_Elp_ **m**E! P_lE_a**sE**!"

The diamond-skinned girl felt her entire body crawl with dread and recognition. She knew that voice.

She_ knew_ that _voice _and she couldn't lie to herself any longer!

It was warped and garbled and held an unnatural echo that couldn't have belonged to a human being. The wail of agony pierced straight through her, a chain of realization coiling around her chest, constricting her breathing with an iron vice.

She stumbled back, eyes blown wide apart by the terror.

By the familiarity.

Her skin crawled, the vile taste of her lunch coming back to greet her tongue went forgotten as _she..._

Yes, she crawled out of a hole in the wall. Long fingers punched through the intervening metal and cement to force itself through the holes it had created. First it reformed into the same puddle they'd fought in the beginning, but soon enough the girl was forming again. Just as the Wards were about to throw themselves at it once more a loud bang split the air and two _massive_ tongs embedded themselves into the thing's chest. The sudden discharge of electricity very clearly informed everyone in a twenty meter radius that this was a brute grade taser; everyone flinched from the static wash they felt. And, as the now liquified mass began to bubble and sputter a trio of whomps announced the arrival of containment foam grenades; their payload smothering the goo and ending the fight with a hilarious finality.

"Miss Militia!" Missy was the first one to react. "Shadow Stalker is frozen and Aegis, Browbeat, and Gallant were captured! Back and to the left."

The camo clad woman nodded.

"Understood. Fall back to the perimeter but stay ready. Armsmaster is fifteen seconds out, further reinforcements inside of a minute."

Miss Militia's weapon shifted from a grenade launcher back to a brute taser. Ten seconds later she had it loaded with standard, non power supplied ammunition. Shouldering her weapon, she swiftly entered the building and moved ahead. Soon enough, a blonde streak slammed into the roof of the school and seemed to punch through the walls like so much wet tissue paper.

Repeated, violent crashes echoed through the battered school and the whole structure groaned in stress. Echoes of weapons fire, the crashing of collapsing cement pillars, and even a chunk of the roof collapsing painted a picture of just how much force was being brought to bear. It was… appropriate, in the Ward's opinion.

And it hadn't even been a _minute_.

In that little space of time, between the extreme tension and the mind numbing emotional exhaustion from their skirmish, Emma actually laughed.

"Hey. Bet you guys five bucks Vicky gets her ass kicked trying to save her boyfriend."

Looking at her like she was insane, the rest of the Wards eventually agreed. Clockblocker even snorted, Kid Win chuckled, and Vista just gave her an amused stare.

"You guys can laugh later. Ok."

She was blathering now, something she'd done after she triggered. Instead of continuing, she clamped her mouth shut and pulled out her phone. Watching the seconds tick by would be easier than having to remember that last cry.

Sixty seconds later and it wasn't just Armsmaster, but Dauntless, Assault and Battery, _half of New Wave,_ Velocity, and Triumph had all arrived too. Hilariously, the plan had consisted of a handful of short, barked orders from the Tinker head of the local Protectorate, mostly consisting of "Wards captured" and "look for hostages" and "power nullifier" and "lethal force authorized", had the group literally smashing the school apart to recover the captured Wards. As for the sprayed down mass of pink goo, well, that had the members of New Wave sitting a couple hundred feet in the air and ready to rain hell on it.

Seeing almost the entirety of the Bay's superhuman force arrayed in front of them hammered home just how bad the situation had gotten. Not even the gangs got this kind of a response. Of course, not even the gangs were dumb enough to let their capes get within a hundred yards of a school. Even being seen as _maybe_, _possibly_ threatening kids was a _bad_ look. The kind that got kill orders handed out.

Not even Lung risked that kind of bad press. And he already had a Cage order hanging over his head if he ever got too out of hand.

Another ten minutes later and the heroes pulled out of the building. Glory Girl was slung over Miss Militia's shoulder, Armsmaster had a big ball of containment foam stuck to the end of his halberd, and Velocity seemed to have a few new bruises. All in all, that just proved what overwhelming force would do, even against a powerful cape. Or piece of tinker tech, Emma supposed. There was no telling what that thing had been. That's what she told herself. The thought of it having been….

But, before she could muse on it further, Miss Militia marched over to them. Thankfully, she seemed uninjured but was very clearly _angry_. Angry in a way that Emma didn't think she'd ever seen.

"Your teammates have been recovered. They're unconscious, but alive and in… acceptable health. Panacea will be meeting us at the Rig in an hour. For now, you're with me. We'll be debriefing upon arrival. I…."

The middle eastern cape worried her lip for a moment.

"I'm utterly and totally enraged you attacked an unknown cape without a plan or preparation or waiting for backup. But I'm proud of you. You did your duty and defended Shadow Stalker to the best of your ability. Speaking of, I assume you'll have an excellent explanation of why you froze her, Clockblocker."

Audibly gulping, the young Ward nodded.

"Yes mam. I, uh, well…."

She held up her hand.

"It can wait for the debriefing. As for Stalker herself, she seems fine. If frozen. I'll remain here until she's unstuck. All of you, report to the Rig within the hour. Until then, dismissed."

"Yes mam!"

They snapped out a crisp answer before relaxing. Vista was the first one of them to move after Miss Militia had walked off.

"Come on, let's go see if we can bum a ride off of some of those troopers."

Milling about, the group eventually agreed with their youngest member's suggestion. For her part, Emma was just hoping everyone made it out of this ok. That fight had been brutal and Winslow was definitely worse for wear. The building itself had a half dozen holes punched in its outside walls and it was definitely gutted in places inside.

"At least the students made it out."

Shaking her head, she stopped wasting time. Jogging, Emma caught up with her comrades, all of whom had started walking over to the line of troopers that had formed around the school. It was always best to make double sure when a tinkertech weapon got loose like this!

"Hey guys, wait up!"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Ask and thou shall receive! And by that I mean flatter an author with enough reviews and they just might write a continuation to a seemingly random one shot! Out of the goodness of their hearts, of course.**

**AtW: Mostly. Didn't want to leave this idea, but, well, school, work, and more school tends to take up a lot of time. Also, don't worry about the angsty bits too much. This is the low point of Taylor's life. Well, until gotterdammerung. But, hey, at least she got to meet her childhood heroes.**

**Wyvern: Indeed. We also edited chapter 1 as an added bonus. Just to show that we listen to the feedback of our adoring fans. Please continue to shower us in never ending praise.**

**AtW: Or flame us. I don't care. Mostly I just wanna be passive aggressive.**

**Wyvern: Well. On with the show!**

**AtW: TENTACLES!**

Taylor Hebert knew pain.

She knew the pain of loss.

Knew the pain of isolation.

Knew the pain of guilt and despair.

One could say that she was a connoisseur of the concept, well versed in the art of savoring the dark feelings which warped and writhed within the hearts of men. Had experienced them for over a year now. All as time itself slipped through her fingers, even as each day stretched longer than the last.

Losing her mother to a drunk driver.

Losing her father to depression.

Losing her hope, self-esteem, and faith in humanity since arriving at Winslow Highschool and meeting the walking terror that was Sophia Hess.

But perhaps the most stinging loss had been that of her best friend.

Her sister in all but blood, lost to an unknown fate.

Taylor had left for summer camp, the scars of losing her mother all too fresh, and when she'd come back Emma had all but vanished from her life. It hadn't been purposeful, or intentional. Emma's father mentioning some unexplained but traumatic event. Her friend had still come over and given her a hug and a promise to get together in a few days. That came and went, Taylor had called her and Emma's father once more explained that she just needed time.

That was ok. Taylor had no idea what had happened, had prayed that it was something Emma would,_ could_ heal from. But there were shadows in her friend's eyes. And so she hadn't pressed. They had spoken a few times, chatted on the phone a bit. But their meetups were pushed back again and again and eventually so were the calls.

This was ok too. Emma needed to heal. Taylor's could understand that all too well. And of course they'd see each other at school. The routine, and the crushing boredom, would bring everything back to normal and that would be that.

And then her sister wasn't there.

It had taken a week for Taylor to find out, but Emma had gotten a last minute transfer to Arcadia._ That_ had hurt. And a long, tearful apology later it suddenly didn't matter they were going to different schools. She and Emma were inseparable again. For about a week.

Soon enough, they were slipping away again.

After that it had all just… fallen apart. Nothing special about it in the end. Just like there was nothing special about Taylor Hebert.

But as her dream, her bittersweet, melancholic dream of the last time she and Emma had gotten coffee slipped away, and she stirred.

Her mind felt clouded, numbed. Pins and needles danced across her brain. Slivers of thought and consciousness ghosting across a fuzzy, muddled, tableau.

'What… where… am I?' Taylor stumbled mentally.

A cold, hard wall closed around her and instantly she was back inside the locker. Corruption filled her world as her dream became a nightmare of human waste and cold metal. Of screaming and crying and unspeakable things crawling across her body. Of how she blacked out and awoke with her flesh running like water, everything in that locker _melting _and of how it all ended up liquifying into a stagnant, polluted pool.

A pool that she knew was _her_.

That filth wasn't just on her or in the cuts on her fingers from trying to claw her way of the stinking, fetid coffin, or in the insect bites, or in her eyes and ears and nose and mouth. It was jusn't the stench of rot and waste, of the taste of death and decay and rotting human effluvia. That filth _was her_. Liquefied, just as she had been, and then reduced to a tacky, bright pink pool the same consistency of bubblegum.

She rippled in panic, the walls around her straining in protest. 

Rushing, silently scream Taylor was awake now, for the given value of awake at least. Her nightmare had not ended. She was blind and deaf and she couldn't feel any part of her body that wasn't the same blobby mass. And unlike before, she wasn't slowly dribbling out of the locker. This time she was being crushed on all sides and nothing was letting up; no trickle of hope and escape. Agony and terror in her breast, Taylor began to thrash as much as she could; a not-brain sending out impulses that travelled through the ether instead of flesh and commanded her form to flail.

Blind and terrified, her attempts were bestial and near unthinking. But, pressing against one small spot, she felt a vibration. A vibration ever so minutely different from every other muted, tactile sense of pressure she could feel. Slamming into that spot, though she had no leverage, she managed to cause a shift simply by striking it over and over; the inexorable pressure of a mass that had no need for true muscles bearing fruit.

Cracks, she thought, formed in the dull, grey sense map she was forming. It was a tube of some kind, hard and cold and oh so much like her locker, but with a small weak spot. And in her fear that was all she needed. Slipping into the cracks of the cracks, the tiny phantasmagoric spider web of pressure points, she forced more and more of herself into that opening and _pushed!_

Taylor felt her 'body' slip through the passage, liquid rushing out like a geyser before hitting a wall.

She felt herself splatter against a smooth surface, flawless and without differentiation. If she were a betting woman she would have guessed it was glass.

Reeling back, she bashed her body against it.

The material didn't so much as rattle.

Flooding out of the tiny tube she… pulled her mass of goo out of the smaller, confining container. Thankfully, blessedly the new one was much larger. So large, in fact, that her panic began to abate. She was still a pool of muck, and she was still trapped, but her new prison was much larger. Large enough that she could only feel it on two sides; three if she reached. It was… enough.

Now that she had time, she could finally focus on remembering just _what_ had happened.

She remembered waking up, going on her morning jog, and making her dad breakfast. After that she'd gone to school and things seemed to be looking up. The gang kids weren't breaking out into fights over one thing or another, she had managed to turn in her assignment for once.

She really should have known better.

Ever since she started at Winslow, Taylor had to deal with the 'tender' mercies of an insufferable jock of a girl called Sophia Hess. Who for some reason seemed to get away with everything at Winslow.

The girl just seemed untouchable.

No misdemeanor was beneath her, no reprimand stopped her.

And may Scion bless your soul if you so much as looked at her wrong.

Early on it seemed everyone in Winslow was fated to deal with the girl's anger issues for years to come. But, near miraculously, the girl had seemingly calmed down for a period of time, always staring at her cell phone for one reason or another.

Of course, one day, she had come back with a vengeance.

And zeroed in on Taylor as if she had tap danced all over her grandmother's grave.

For over a year the girl had made it her mission to try and make Taylor as miserable as possible, tripping her down the hallways, stealing her homework or downright destroying it, ruining her clothes. The list went on and on. The black girl had even formed her own small gang of… diverse students and gotten into a few fights, that she _easily_ won, with both the E88 and ABB.

So of course it came as a surprise to Taylor that the girl would just ignore her.

A very suspicious surprise.

Still… her suspicion had changed nothing. She'd been shoved into a locker- 'slow breaths Taylor, in and out. Don't think about the fact that you aren't actually breathing.'- her mantra half worked. Just thinking about the locker without having a full blown panic attack was already a major victory.

Well, she didn't have to worry about that anymore either.

All she remembered were the walls closing in around her. The need to get away, to breath, and then she had quite literally slipped through the nooks and crannies of the door.

Everything after that had been a blur.

The anger, the desperation. The need to find anyone who could help put her back together.

She had latched onto the first person she could reach, warm and soft their bodies had been pleasant to the touch.

'Of course, they didn't take very kindly to that.'

Deaf and blind as she had been, Taylor hadn't really known what was going around until the person she had clung to start swiping and clawing at her. It wasn't like it hurt her, but the adrenaline had pushed her to hold on tighter. After that… it was a blur of pain and sensation and then a few flickering images of Emma. Something Taylor was sure she'd dreamt up.

She banged her mass against the wall again, to no avail.

'Tch. I'm not gonna get anywhere like this. I need eyes, sight, vision. Something to help me find my way out of here!'

It wasn't undoable, she remembered just barely managing it before. The images had been blurry, yes, but distinct enough for her to make out shapes. And right now, considering she'd only had her sense of touch, anything was better than nothing. Unless it was pitch black, of course. But this container felt… different. Still smooth and cold, but slightly less so. It wasn't really a major piece of evidence to base a guess on, but she kind of… _felt_ that this container was made of a type of plastic, maybe?

'Yeah.' She thought. 'Definitely some kind of plastic mixed with something else.'

Taylor had no idea _how_ she knew. It would be like trying to describe the taste of a color or the sound of time. Just touching the walls seemed to help her understand what they were in ways she knew were not possible for a human.

Well. It's not like she remotely qualified as human anymore.

Not that she really cared about that. First she needed to escape whatever this box was, then she would have plenty of time to figure out why she turned into a Ditto.

'Maybe I'll be able to pull off Android 21 with practice. Though this isn't exactly how I wanted to get tits.'

Pop culture references and general fangirling aside, they did help Taylor take her mind off the fact she was currently a pile of sludge. And provided a frame of possibilities.

She had been able to make eyes before, therefore there isn't any reason she can't do it again.

The question remained though.

How?

'Powers are supposed to be instinctual, right? Capes say there's usually just… something there that lets them know where to start. So maybe…."

And suddenly, she was screaming in horror.

Her _entire body_ had turned into a single, massive eye. Something that was unimaginably unpleasant. Not because it was painful, she had forgotten to do "nerves", but because the sudden shift in perspective and sensation was utterly and totally disconcerting. She'd also gathered herself together. So, functionally, she'd just turned herself into a large pancake shaped eye thing.

There was a difference between seeing 'nothing' and 'everything at once'.

Like the bright lamp positioned directly above the box she was trapped inside.

'Eesh. Good thing I forgot about the nerves. That would have been unpleasant.'

Letting her body turn back into goop, this time she started from the beginning. Slowly, she formed a roughly spherical mass and, making sure to mentally clarify that she wanted _human eyes like the ones she had_, she… pushed. And her body answered. It took a few tries, she had to stay focused on keeping her shape or she'd just start to droop on one said or melt on the other. But considering the only degree of unpleasantness she was feeling was a mild hunger, no panic or fear or even the depression she'd been fighting against for so long, there was nothing to do but practice.

So Taylor did.

Ever so slowly she was able to actually form into a ball, a little bit wider than she was tall, and turned inward to create her eyes. Thankfully, starting over with even more complex things was easy. Her power, and she was sure she was some kind of cape now, was _eager _to give her what she wanted. So when she realized she was creating her old, messed up eyes that left her damn near blind without her glasses, she just gave it another try.

And this time she _squeed_.

'Oh my god, oh my god, oh my _god_ that's Armsmaster. I was wearing his underwear to school! I hope they didn't find those. And holy crap that's _Armsmaster_ he _tazed _me. Shit, am I villain? I think I am, oh my god I'm a villain! What am I gonna do?'

Did she break something?

Grope the wrong person?

She was pretty out of it for the most part. Maybe she had clung too tightly to someone and hurt them?

'What do I do… what do I do…' The maddening mantra looped through her mind. 

It took Taylor a little while to calm down, her mass rolling about and shifting color ever so slightly, but the blue armored superhero was content to observe her. Although she couldn't hear anything, she could see his mouth, the only part of his face not covered by his helmet, moving.

Obviously the Protectorate had been called in when she triggered. Just one look at a pink blob of weirdness creeping through a school hallway would be enough to send alarms blaring through the roof.

And while her powers were… not as horrible as growing infinitely long fingernails, they didn't let her read lips. So it was a short while later, short being somewhat relative in this case, that she had calmed down enough to focus on learning how to make her body hear things.

Ears were easier to form than eyes, she found, perhaps because what the brain registered were patterns of vibrations in the air and that's what she seemed to most easily pick up on.

Taylor shifted her mass ever so slightly, making it so her 'head' pressed against the front wall.

"Hello. Are you self aware?"

Somewhat confused by the question, Taylor took a long, slow blink.

"Could you repeat that?"

Still confused, but fully aware she wouldn't be capable of doing a mouth, vocal cords, and a voice box all at once, she just blinked really slowly.

"Thank you." Armsmaster pushed a button on a computer. "This is Armsmaster, 11:42 A.M. on the eighth of January. Conducting an interview with Prisoner 4468-55-973, designation "Flask", about the incident which occurred at Winslow Highschool on the seventh of January at approximately noon eastern standard time. Flask is non verbal and, after a day in custody, has only recently reformed. Initial containment failed, somewhat spectacularly, but no efforts have been made to breach secondary containment."

'I beg your pardon, kind sir. Did you just call me a prisoner?!'

And what was that about a designation?

'Flask? As in a container for fluid?' 

If she had a throat, Taylor would have swallowed. Instead, she shrunk in on herself and rolled back from the edge of the glass. She'd gotten an eye full of a sterile looking lab, completely and totally clean indicating disuse, and what looked like a camera, a recessed pair of _gun turrets_, and a computer terminal. The hero hadn't even brought a chair. Turning away from the computer, he double checked a small camera and continued the interview.

"Hello Flask. I am Armsmaster. Are you aware of _who_ you are?"

Stunned, she vaguely bubbled and puttered about a bit.

"Subject response was unclear. Flask, can you please repeat that?"

Blinking, or her new equivalent of it, Taylor elongated her body enough to be able to shift it. Confident in her large scale maneuver, she affected a nod.

"Subject appears to have nodded. Was that an affirmative?"

Taylor nodded again.

"Subject confirms it is aware of their identity. Flask, as per the Miranda v. Arizona decision, and its extension Silent Night v. Dakota, you have the right to remain silent or non communicative. Anything you say, do, or communicate through any means during this interrogation can and may be used against you in court. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. You have the right to stop answering questions at any time if you wish to do so. Do you understand your rights as they have been explained to you?"

Taylor felt a chill run through her body… mass… thing?

She'd watched enough crappy Law and Order reruns to know what was happening. They were going to interrogate her.

Like a criminal.

Not like a random teenager who had gotten into trouble over a stupid prank taken too far or committed some minor misdemeanor.

This wasn't Blackwell's office back at Winslow.

This was a high grade cell, and she was being watched by a member of the Protectorate. This was the sort of thing you heard from conspiracy theorists at PHO, talking about how newly minted capes were put through the system if they did something stupid.

...Like attacking someone in broad daylight.

Or causing chaos at a school full of children.

Wobbling in place, she wanted to cry. Twisting into herself she flopped around a bit, letting out her equivalent of whimpers.

She didn't remember. Couldn't remember!

What had she done to deserve this? Had she hurt someone?

Hadn't she already been punished enough? Her body was gone. She was never going to be a human again and now she was stuck inside a box playing the charade version of twenty questions with Protectorate cape.

This… this was a dream right?

It just has to be a dream!

She was likely hallucinating, stuck inside the locker dying. She would take anything over this hopeless, total isolation, and sterile, distant containment.

Taylor's shape spasmed and reformed, again and again, pulsing with emotions she could not hope to control or contain. Unable to cry, unable to scream or plead for help. She shuddered at the unwelcome memory.

'Begging to be let out.'

'Clawing at metal until her fingers snapped'

Her body burning and bleeding, as if crushed through a tube.

Taylor shifted, desperately trying to cling to her form, only to fail miserably and slip into a puddle of misery and nerves. 

-

Armsmaster was confused.

That is not to say he didn't understand the situation as others often accused him of. He understood emotions, perhaps a bit differently, but he largely simply didn't see the point in acting on them. At best, they could push people to excel. More commonly they left people in the state Sophia, Shadow Stalker, had been recovered in.

Strangulation marks across her neck, large bruises across her arms, legs, and torso. Friction burns across her limbs, abrasions on her hands and face, along with a few broken ribs in her chest and a nearly cracked hyoid bone. All because she rushed in and, according to the other Wards and verified by the school security cameras, because the girl attacked a clearly panicking unknown with lethal force.

And that wasn't taking into consideration the very much crippling spinal injury. Just the last alone would be enough to permanently maim the girl if not downright kill her. They owed New Wave and Panacea a great debt for their decisive action and saving of the problem child's life.

Even taking the severity of Shadow Stalker's injuries into account, he still found the idea of the prisoner he was watching to be a ruthless villain oddly bewildering. 

For the most part, the individual they codenamed as Flask looked like a blob of jello, not at all different from the widespread definition of a 'slime'. It didn't seem to express aggressive tendencies outside of its initial escape from basic containment. Not that it really surprised him. The measure was subpar by his standards, at best, hence why he placed it inside a more resistant cage.

As a hero and authority figure, he knew he was supposed to be looking at this individual as a dangerous criminal. Or at the very least as the tool of one.

However, years of interacting with the worst elements of society had carved into him an instinct of sorts. An ability to distinguish a truly dangerous individual from one under duress. And so far, Flask had been presenting signs far more similar to the later rather than the former. In short, his gut was telling him to read into this and he wanted to know why.

Shadow Stalker's injuries had been haphazard and crude. Not the mark of an experienced fighter seeking to kill, but of someone struggling in desperation.

As if the Ward had been the aggressor.

The open display of emotional distress also unnerved him, although it gave him a different avenue which to conduct this interrogation with.

Speaking into the microphone, he made himself a note.

"Note to self, subject suffers emotional disturbance. Questioning will cease for fifteen minutes or until the disturbance ends." Pressing a button, he didn't pause the recording but he _did _switch it off of the official interrogation save.

"Flask." She didn't notice him speaking. "Flask." This time he was loud enough that she heard. Obvious by her sudden freezing. "Would you like something to eat?"

The pink mass rolled over to the glass and gave him another long, slow blink. Disturbing in the extreme, considering he could see half formed optic nerves extending towards the center of the mass. Still, he took that as a yes and walked over to the computer terminal. Five minutes later, a fully armored PRT trooper walked into the room, handed him a brick of colorless food cubes, rations developed for nutrition and nothing else, before the trooper walked out with a quick salute.

Armsmaster approved of the man's efficiency.

Breaking off a food cube the size of a marble, he slid it into the entry port of the secondary containment unit and dropped it in. A few seconds after the slot had closed again, and Flask had made no entry to break containment.

He made sure to put it down on his report it as a mark of good behavior and cooperation.

Returning to his computer terminal, the veteran hero turned to review footage of Flask reforming itself. The sound of an air bubble popping, loud only to his built in microphones, got his attention.

Flask had absorbed the food cube, the slowly dissolving hunk of calories drifting towards the center of her mass, and seemed rather less distressed. It had managed to get some of its shape back and was no longer twitching and spluttering. Small improvements, he supposed. A short while later he requested a chair, the interview period having long since passed. Sitting in the steel backed chair, he mused on the properties he'd observed.

"It seems unlikely that Flask is acidic, its body caused no damage when it engulfed the Wards nor when it was destabilized. Perhaps… microscopic manipulation? The tearing off of small chunks of material. Or, perhaps, further abilities related to vibration. Though I can not rule out the potential for it being capable of altering its own Ph levels."

Gathering itself into a ball once more, Flask rolled to the edge of the container and looked at the food cubes once more.

"Would you like some more?"

An enthusiastic nod answered the obvious question and so he pulled several more sections off. With a second feeding taking place, he took a short video of the entity crawling over to mass of, more or less tasteless, calories. Interestingly, her eyes didn't turn. Instead, they seemed to actually slide through the mass of her body to change direction.

"Or… perhaps it's not moving through her mass. Is your mass undifferentiated?"

The potential usage for such a valuable resource was… sizeable.

Armsmaster knew well the dangers of the cape profession, knew that each and every night he and his compatriots risked life and limb to protect the defenseless from the designs of evil maniacs like Kaizer and Lung.

But he was also a realist.

Not every battle could be won, nor could every injury be healed in time. After all, the few minutes that took Panacea to answer an emergency call could be the difference between life and death.

So to have something potential game changing such as a mass of sentient cells.

It gave the Tinker… ideas. 

He'd need to review the footage with Dragon later to make sure he was correct, but, using a few of the more advanced sensors in his suit, it seemed like the blob's mass was actively shifting to form an eye when and where it was needed.

"Hypothesis. Flask manifests two eyes and took a vaguely humanoid shape during the incident. When considering its awareness of self, the likelihood that Flask is a cape, and not tinkertech, is highly likely. Suggested provisional ratings are Brute Four, Breaker Eight, Trump Six. Should the subject be capable of consenting, further testing is likely to provide clearer ratings."

The smooth sound of the door opening broke his concentration.

Turning aside, Armsmaster offered a stiff nod as Miss Militia marched into the observation area of the containment zone. He was a bit confused at the ice he saw in her eyes. The woman was usually warm, even to him, but now she looked positively stormy. Though his social instincts were still developed enough to let his confusion, both at her appearance and at her seeming displeasure, to stop him from inclining his head in greeting.

"Miss Militia."

He turned back to the computer readouts, all coming from various tinkertech sensors built into the room and his suit, and was actually surprised when she cleared her throat.

"I was told you'd be conducting an interrogation. I came to inform you that the PRT has confirmed the charges they wish to level against the hostile, should it be a cape. Is it self aware?"

Colin slowly nodded.

"It is self aware, but nothing else was determined. Whether it is a cape or tinkertech construct remains unconfirmed."

She shook her head.

"Irrelevant. According to the precedence set by the court cases around Nilbog, any tinkertech construct, so long as it is self aware, may be charged with crimes." Turning to the glass, Miss Militia crossed her arms. "Flask, have you been mirandized?"

Armsmaster was a bit offended at the idea he wouldn't have read the suspect her rights before questioning her. Still, he said nothing as his coworker laid out the laundry list of charges that was being thrown at the now shaking ball of goo.

"You are being charged with three counts of resisting arrest, once for the Wards, once for Glory Girl, and once for your attack against Protectorate heroes. You are charged with felony vandalism, twelve counts. You are charged with twenty four counts of assault and six counts of felony battery. Additionally, considering that the Wards, Glory Girl, and Protectorate forces all identified themselves, this is considered to constitute an assault against a civil official. The district attorney is considering further charges at this time and it is likely this will be considered an incident of domestic terrorism, considering the primary victim was a Ward out of costume and the attack took place at a high school. I hope you understand the gravity of your actions. You have attacked the Wards. Minors. As well as injured multiple heroes. In this case, a civil lawsuit will be the least of your concerns."

The armor clad hero could see that his comrade was positively _seething_. Patting her on the shoulder, Armsmaster quickly shut off communications.

It wouldn't do well to argue with his colleague in front of a prisoner.

"Panacea has already healed the injuries and the school is receiving state and federal money for rebuilding. None of the students, aside from Shadow Stalker, were injured. And I'm not entirely sure this was intentional. Or, at least, there seems to be a preponderance of evidence this could be trigger related."

"And that excuses an attack on a Ward? Out of costume?"

Colin sighed. 

He… had underestimated her ire. It was clear from the tone of her voice and the glare she was sending him and the captive blob.

"Miss Militia, with me." 

His voice brooked no argument and she was a good soldier. A sharp nod was his response and both marched out of the room, neither of them noticing how the pink ball had collapsed back into a writhing puddle.

Once outside, he pinned the woman with a disapproving stare.

"You are acting out of emotional distress, Hanna."

His usage of her first same was meant to assuage her that they were speaking as equals, not as subordinate and superior. A gesture of trust on his part.

Which went whole ignored by his fellow parahuman. If anything, it seemed to have further incited her wrath.

"I assure you I am in full control of my mental state, Colin. Do you doubt my professionalism?"

Her tone was sharp. Cutting.

But it had nothing on her eyes. Twin orbs of dark green which dared him to disagree with her. Under any other circumstances, he would have relented out of respect for the woman's long tenure as a parahuman and stellar record.

However…

"I only worry that your position as the Ward's official commander and your responsibility to them is not… dulling your judgement."

Her eyes narrowed.

Bad move on his part.

"I am not emotionally compromised."

"No, but you are attached to them. As it is to be expected. You trained them for years now. It is completely natural for you to feel protective of them. However, that does not mean you can stomp your way into the holding cells and read an ultimatum to a being who might not even understand it. And you certainly do not do it without a superior officer's express permission. Has the Director signed off on this plan?"

Miss Militia went stiff.

"The Director and Mayor Alcott have come to an agreement on the matter."

That phrase was not a good one. It had only been used twice before, both times relating to the gangs. The implications were… severe.

Armsmaster understood all too well. Just last month, a popular singer by the name of Canary had caused a nationwide panic by using her recently developed parahuman abilities to grievously injure her boyfriend.

While not the first time an event like that had happened, the girl's popularity had given room to those with less… accepting opinions to form a coalition in order to railroad the young woman into a Birdcage sentence. Primarily based on their concerns of the fact it had resulted in a fatality and the sexual nature of the death had ensured the tabloids were churning out fodder faster than her defense team could combat it.

Dragon had made him very much aware of the details on the matter.

The judge.

The prosecution.

Even the defense had likely been… suborned. While she wasn't sure, Dragon had strongly implied that the Elite might even be involved. Possibly because of Miss Mcabee's fame, possibly because she had refused them.

In the end, none of that mattered. They were all seeking to establish a precedent. A zero tolerance policy towards accidents relating to parahuman behavior. Regardless of the circumstances and details, Paige Mcabee was being set up as an example to capes all over the country.

'Toe the line or get caged.'

And Flask, of course, had accidentally spat in their faces.

He grit his teeth.

"That sounds like a set up. The mayor wants to use her to promote himself." Armsmaster felt a migraine hit him just then.

Politics. He hated politics.

Oh no.

OH NO.

O_hnOo_HN_**onO**_h**ono**oh_noNo_hO**no**

Taylor couldn't breath.

Couldn't move.

A thousand and one questions fired through her mind at once, thundering through her misshapen being like fireworks.

What had she done?

What the hell… had SHE _DONE?_

Assaulting a ward?

Attacking the school?

Resisting arrest?

She couldn't remember doing anything like that! All she had were brief flashes and feverish daydreams, bits and pieces she could make nothing of let alone recall.

She had hurt Shadow Stalker and Glory Girl?

_How?!_

One of them could go immaterial. The other could bench press a train. How did she, a harmless little blob of slime, manage to touch let alone _hurt_ a Ward and an Alexandria package?

They had to be wrong!

This had to be a mistake!

Her form had collapsed, her eyes returning to pink goo, and her body turning back into a puddle. As her emotions roiled and bucked hints of the… fight flashed into her mind. Something hot stabbing into her, a hardened mass coalescing over bodies, lightning bolts of pain as again and again and again people attacked her. She… she thought she remembered _Emma_ being there. Remembered feeling the shape of her face and tasting the color of her hair and somehow _knowing_ it was her.

And then everything went to shit.

Taylor remembered feeling something _inside _of her. Somehow something metal, cold and hard and jagged, had just appeared in the middle of her body. She'd screamed in the memory, but her body simply twitched. The feeling of lightning and fire coalesced, Kid Win had been shooting her. Gallant had been blasting her.

And then… half of her memories went black.

It was sudden and sharp and the pain was overwhelming for a moment. She was relatively sure Miss Militia had shot her. Something that had blasted her apart, leaving her incapable of retaining control over her body. Lightning, steel, and flickering agony.

Black depression clawed at her gut.

Now she remembered the fight. Fights. Whatever. How she'd strangled Sophia, how the bitch had turned into shadow to try and dodge her attacks, and how that had failed miserably when her lashing tendrils had struck her. It occurred to her, now that she had the luxury of time, that Sophia was Shadow Stalker. And considering that she'd attacked, and almost killed, a Ward in her civilian identity the laundry list of charges made sense. They were gonna throw her in a hole and it might even be the Birdcage.

'I suppose that explains… everything. 'Sigh''

In the end, it really did.

The school never took action against the girl because she was a Ward. And, frankly, Taylor didn't even blame them. Shadow Stalker had enough rumors swirling around her that she was seen as damn close to a villain back when she was a vigilante. So the school bent over backwards, Sophia got to take out her issues on some gang bangers, and the Protectorate probably didn't even know. Taylor would believe it if she was told Blackwell hadn't even bothered to contact anyone, simply for the combination of prestige and security a Ward brought to Winslow.

A perfect solution to a bunch of shitty problems and the only ones that got hurt were the… little people. And it's not like they'd have been ignored if Sophia wasn't there. The gangs would have just moved in, in force. That meant Sophia was probably a net positive in the end.

'...And I'm rambling.'

She was.

But as she stared out of her darkened tube, the screensaver of computer terminal the only light in the room, she could at least comfort herself with one thought.

'At least I got to see Emma again!' She mumbled sardonically.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Greetings people of the internet. We have returned to deliver yet another installment of Taylor's version of Reincarnated as a Slime. Starring herself as the adorable puddle of goo!**

**AtW: Indeed. And I do want to address a few guest reviews. This isn't a suffering story, but bad things DO happen. This is Brockton Bay. It's a freaking Hell Mouth. As for laws protecting trigger events, I couldn't find any canon to address that. However, I think I can spin a reasonable version of something you'd find IRL.**

**Wyvern: And believe me, we thought of plenty of ways on how to make her situation even worse, but decided to be nice and just go for depression, and the threat of life in prison.**

**AtW: Well. Super prison from Sci Fi space Hell. But the point is, Taylor did something we'd all freak out about IRL. And that happens a lot in fics… and never gets touched on. As for people seeming odd, well, they have their own reasons to act that way. Armsmaster is detached, he doesn't care about the WHY, but he does see a girl who was largely a victim. Ironically because he doesn't see something wrong with what happened to the Wards. M&M (blessed be those chocolate thighs) **_**does**_**. Even Piggot sees things in her own way. As for the evidence, and the trial, well, you'll have to read on to find out.**

**Chapter 3 - Discussions, Reunions, Schemes. And so much more to come.  
**

There was something to be said about unstoppable forces and immovable objects.

A rock and a hard place.

The cross and the sword.

Two extremes warring for dominance over facets of reality that could never be argued nor reasoned with. Like a wind storm trying to topple a mountain, or the waves of the sea struggling to reach the heavens. Such things simply could not be.

Emily Piggot was never one to fall back on trite euphemisms to describe the world around herself. She was a woman of reason. Of facts and discipline, born from courage and an iron will to survive.

But the fact of the matter was that at this very moment the Director of the Brockton Bay Protectorate found herself stuck right down the middle of a struggle the likes of which hadn't been seen since the Judgement of Solomon. Or the same argument every director had each time they had a cape that was the worst kind of shade of grey.

To one side Armsmaster, unique in that he was one of the few, perhaps even the only, parahumans for whom she held a measure of trust.

On the other side, Miss Militia; a woman known for her pragmatism and professionalism. Someone she could respect and even understand to a certain point.

Both of them were hardened veterans of the PRT, experienced and reliable and no strangers to hard choices. A remarkably rare commodity these days and one the Director would have liked to keep from losing because of a debate. A debate that was soon to become a debacle if the two sides did not come to an understanding.

All over a small blob of pink slime.

One who had, admittedly, defeated all of the Wards.

And then the pride of New Wave and wounded a PRT hero before being taken down.

"With all due respect Director, the district attorney was clear. Flask is being charged. Trigger event or not, she attacked a Ward _out of costume_. More than that, she injured multiple other Wards. And all ameliorating evidence is hearsay. There is, quite simply, no corroboration for the claim of Shadow Stalker not only being the head of a _gang_ but having then conducted a campaign of abuse and harassment towards anyone."

Armsmaster grunted.

"The email accounts filled with abusive emails?"

Militia bent her head in acknowledgement.

"A severe case of cyberbullying, one I might grant you could cause a trigger on its own, but Shadow Stalker was not connected to any of them."

"And I find it odd you're arguing so hard to defend someone you initially opposed permitting into the Wards."

"I find it odd you're arguing so hard to defend a villain."

Colin's brow furrowed. Odd, both in that he had his helmet off and because he was visibly displaying his emotions. Piggot had no issues with either, better to be able to read him than not, but it was always disconcerting when his focus on raw efficiency stuttered. Even more disturbing is that there was _always_ a reason.

"She is not a villain. Are you upset because of the injuries inflicted on the Wards? I understand you care deeply for them but-"

Piggot cleared her throat, forestalling another outburst from Militia. This would not degenerate further.

"Enough." That one word had them silent. "Armsmaster. It is not polite to bring up people's emotional entanglements like that. Miss Militia. I don't care if you consider the Wards your surrogate children or not, it's time to calm down and act like a professional. The Wards are all trained professionals and are _all_ veterans. They can handle being roughed up. Now, Armsmaster, what evidence, if any, has been recovered?"

Both capes took their rebuke well enough. Both capes also knew she would have words with them later, in private. Neither wanted to make it worse, so they focused up. Piggot did enjoy being queen bitch.

Armsmaster cleared his throat.

"After running an analysis of the video, our personnel have ascertained that the identity of Flask is indeed that of Taylor Annette Hebert, a student of Winslow High. Though testimony was scarce and contradictory, we believe that she triggered as a result of a malicious prank. Furthermore, even considering her current state prevents vocal testimony, Miss Hebert's account of events lead me to think she suffered a psychotic break."

He paused, letting his colleagues absorb the information. 

"At the moment, we have cell phone video, video recovered from the school security cameras, eyewitness testimony related to the incident, and the debriefing of all members of New Wave and the PRT and Protectorate operatives on site." The man took a deep breath. "The most likely timeline is that Flask triggered, the incident occurred, she was captured, woke up in containment, and after confirming her identity, recounted her escape and the following attack based on sensory feedback."

"Sensory?" Piggot's question was short, but Colin knew what she wanted.

"Yes. Her sense of touch is… extremely advanced. Almost impossibly so. From what she has related, and the… limited data recovered from the crime scene, she was capable of determining the temperature and makeup of objects surrounding her. This would explain why she moved towards the nearest source of heat."

He frowned.

"Director."

"Permission to speak freely granted."

Piggot knew Colin really did appreciate his director's understanding and his statement was wonderfully to the point.

"There is extreme amounts of circumstantial evidence that Taylor Hebert was the victim of an _extremely_ malicious bullying campaign by a group of girls in her year. And while we can not confirm the contents of the locker in question, nor who pushed her into it, we _can_ confirm she _was _inside a locker. Eyewitness testimony claim that an unknown assailant shoved her into it and that it was filled with toxic waste."

Emily nodded her head at Miss Militia.

"And yet no one will name names. At all. And while I admit Flask's diaries have a laundry list of claims, claims _we can not confirm_, they name nearly a dozen girls. In short, Shadow Stalker is a Ward, on probation, while her behavior and psyche profile have both been steadily improving. As it stands, I do not think this could have been her. To say nothing of the consequences of turning the newest media darling into the one responsible for something so heinous."

She almost snarled. Piggot was _offended_ at the blatant attempt at manipulation. Yet a lifetime of knowing how shit rolled down hill meant all she displayed was a slight downturn of her lips. Intimidating enough for even a mother lion defending her cubs.

"What the mayor and governor thinks is immaterial to our investigation. Regardless of whether they wish to be seen as tough on parahuman crime or not. My _sole _concern is whether or not Flask is a threat."

Militia seized the chance to bounce back from her mistake.

"A moody teenage girl, emotionally unstable, clinically depressed, and willing to nearly kill another girl? Never mind the _extreme_ hostility displayed towards the heroes that arrived on scene to apprehend her. Even if this was a trigger event, she is unquestionably a threat. And unlike Shadow Stalker, not one easily contained."

Frowning once more, Armsmaster agreed.

"The assessment of her mental state is… accurate. If a bit incomplete. Though I am obligated to point out that she is resistant to damage. Enough that even Kid Win's laser pistols on a lethal setting caused minimal damage. Her memories of the fight are still unclear, but Ms. Hebert described it as 'red hot needles'. She also pointed out that the sensation was almost the worst pain she'd ever felt, only less than her original transformation, but passed almost immediately. Additionally, her form was only… dispersed when Miss Militia hit her with an upgunned brute taser."

Colin gave her another significant look, sighing, Piggot nodded her head.

"Thank you Director. I would also state that since escaping the stage one containment device, she has been almost entirely passive and cooperative outside of moments of extreme emotional distress. The likelihood of being forced to contain her is low."

"But you have a plan in case you need to?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course Armsmaster had a plan. And half a dozen back up plans. But at his sharp nod, Piggot felt a hint of relief. She may not want to Cage the girl, but Hebert was either an asset or one hell of a threat.

"Militia, closing arguments?"

"Paige Mcabee and Rachel Lindt. One of them is sitting in lockup, the other running around in our city. Both of them committed murders during their trigger event and both were found guilty. Flask, regardless of what else happened, _hurt_ people. She _attacked _people. And she would have killed Shadow Stalker if she could." Miss Militia stood at attention, hands clasped behind her back. "If she'd used a gun, we wouldn't be having this discussion. We'd be thanking God she hadn't managed to shoot anyone. Whether she was mentally stable or not is a consideration the courts must take into account during sentencing. But this was an attack on a school and on a Ward that resulted in said Ward being outed. _We_ _can not let this slide_. Not unless we want more Fleurs."

Her kidneys twinged and Piggot almost grunted in pain. Why did she ever accept this position? What possessed her to come to Brockton fucking Bay?

"Armsmater."

"This could very well be a school shooting we are ultimately responsible for. Throwing her under the bus, regardless of the political context, could very well destroy the Protectorate ENE. Of course, if we make her an ally, she _is_ a Brute and a Trump. The potential for a significant victory is high while, conversely, if she becomes our enemy it will not be easy to neutralize her. In the end, I advise… caution."

"Understood. Both of you, dismissed."

A snapped salute later the two capes were marching out of her office, leaving Emily alone with her thoughts. Chief amongst them were the three recent phone calls she'd received. The first had been from the Youth Guard of all people. Their threats had been poorly veiled and ended when Piggot had gotten bored enough to just hang up.

"If they want to sue me, they're welcome to spend the next two decades in court."

Leaning back in her chair, she mused on the second phone call. This one was from the governor of Massachusetts. Apparently, he was concerned about the safety of his good friend the mayor. Who was, additionally, coming up for reelection in a few months and already firing up his campaign. The centerpiece being a tough on parahuman crime stance.

"At least he had the decency to offer a bribe."

And he had. A few veiled threats of having her career ruined and a suggestion that, should she ever be interested, there was a lucrative spot with a seven figure salary as a "parahuman threat consultant" waiting for her. If she did a good job over the next few years.

Downing the last of her now cold coffee, Piggot wished she'd been able to tell him to fuck off.

"Politicians, disgusting slobs, they all seem to think it's as simple as bringing the hammer down." She snorted. "Look how well that turned out in Texas."

Damaged people were unstable even without super powers. But when pushing someone who was already on shaky ground could maybe unleash a literal nazi superman on the city, well, she had to evaluate risks. Take out a couple drug dealers and get their crap off the streets, or get a SWAT team killed when one of those disgusting junkies turns into a ten foot tall monster with knives for teeth and skin so hard you needed a laser to cut through.

"At least the Director has my back."

Emily thanked god that was the case. Director Costa-Brown had called and promised her personal support. Piggot was a trusted commander and there was no way in Hell she'd be thrown under the bus. Not unless _everything_ went to shit. And if that happened, Piggot would own it herself. The Bay was in a bad way and she wouldn't risk it being domed.

Obviously, the fact that this was an incident at a school held weight too. Multiple children were at risk. Never mind that their pet vigilante was injured, Hess knew what she was getting into. This could set a precedent, though. That children and neutral areas were no longer protected. Militia had a point, it was the PRT that enforced the tentative peace. If they didn't come down on someone who'd broken half the unspoken rules in the first hour she had her powers _and_ embarrassed them, well, her forces could lose a great deal of leverage.

So now the potential fate of the city was in one hand and on the other, the fate of one girl.

"One broken, violent, terrified victim and all of justice."

It was an easy call, in the end. Because it was the only call she could make and still live with herself.

The egos of powerful men and self important jackasses would see a child branded and made a scapegoat. And Piggot could do fuck all without ruining her own career and possibly even losing command of Protecterate ENE. Her replacement would cage Hebert themself, just to show that knew to toe the party line. In the end, Hebert could possibly be an unstable teenaged parahuman. That meant she needed therapy, not prison. So Emily would stall.

Stall and pray that Hebert got a good lawyer.

-

Life in prison was not what Taylor had envisioned for her future three days ago.

Then again, she hadn't seen a lot of things coming her way until they literally hit her over the head and shoved her into a locker full of toxic waste. And she most certainly hadn't planned on becoming the biggest wad of sentient bubblegum in human history.

She'd raged about it. Cried herself to sleep once or twice. Tried to convince herself that this had all been a massive mistake and that she was just having a terribly long winded nightmare, and that sooner or later she would wake up. Unfortunately, as the hours turned into days, Taylor, or Flask as she was now being referred to by the PRT, had learnt to accept her new reality for what it was and moved on into more productive paths.

Ones that did not involve banging her 'head' into the walls while chanting madly.

'Not my proudest moment, to be sure.'

But today things were looking up! She'd been told earlier this morning that she'd be having a meeting with her lawyer, Alan Barnes, and more importantly her father! Frankly, Taylor was so wonderfully, deliriously excited to see the man she simply didn't care about the fact that she was still a pink blob. For the most part, at least.

"Are you ready to go?"

The scarf clad Miss Militia, carrying a _very_ intimidating rifle, was at least speaking _to_ her now. Taylor still winced when she remembered how they had first communicated. It had been… dicey. Mostly because Taylor had literally been climbing up the sides of the jar and fiddling with the feeding latch.

Apparently, that got people a little jumpy.

'Yes mam.'

Taylor tensed her gelatinous body into a more compact mass, her signal for 'yes'. It wasn't _really_ speech, but it worked well enough to get the point across.

"Understood. Prepare for transport!"

Calling out for the benefit of the cameras, and the recessed turrets, Miss Militia punched in a key code to Taylor's containment unit and a secondary jar, this one clear and far lighter, detached. She'd had to squeeze through a connecting tube to get into it and it was quite a bit smaller, but she didn't care. Taylor was far, far too happy to get upset today!

"Container detached, moving to interview room six."

One hand on her rifle, the other carrying the transport container by its handle Miss Militia stepped out of the room and a squad of troopers fell in around her.

Taylor quivered in place a bit. It had been explained that this was a standard escort for someone with her ratings, but the reflective masks and heavy body armor of the Protectorate forces was… intimidating in the extreme. Still, ten minutes and she could see her dad!

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Just metal corridors and a security checkpoint where all of their identities were confirmed. Absolutely basic. Soon enough, they entered into a room with two desks which were separated by a clear wall. On one side a plain, metal desk with two chairs sat there and on the other a small cubicle had been designed to include a keyboard and a speaker.

No terminal, just a speaking aid as had been explained to her.

Her container was attached to the side of the aforementioned cubicle and Taylor… sloshed out onto a glass surface holding up said keyboard and speaker. The escort left without a word and Miss Militia simply frowned and gave her a nod. Taylor waved goodbye. Even if they'd gotten off to a rocky start, the brown skinned heroine _was_ an idol of hers.

They wouldn't be friends any time soon. But it was a start. 

Though, frankly, after getting to meet Velocity, who apologized for punching her, and spending so much time with Armsmaster they'd become her favorites. Velocity was fun to listen to ramble about all the places he'd wanted to travel to and she got the feeling he was both incredibly frustrated with his life and guilty about something. More than hitting a teenage girl, at least. Armsmaster, on the other hand, was blunt, brusque, and socially awkward to the degree she thought he _might_ be autistic.

That was more a vague assumption, though. He might just be that professional. Still, he was hilariously upfront with her, answered her questions, such as they were, as well as he could, and treated her like an adult during testing and interviews. It turns out, she was so starved for attention that something that small was capable of getting her to latch on.

Sliding towards the transparent wall, Taylor very nearly vibrated not only with excitement but also anxiety.

It's not that she was having second thoughts about seeing her dad. It was just that after the uncertainty of the past days, she couldn't help but agonize over what he might be thinking. What the PRT could have told him about her and how he was going to react about having a ball of goop for a daughter.

She _was_ a teenaged girl. At least she thought… hoped she was.

Her musing was halted when the far door opened, two men stepping inside.

'Daddy!'

Taylor planted her 'face' against the glass panel, watching with avid anticipation as her father walked through the room to sit in front of her.

He looked… terrible.

With his hair straying in all directions like a rat's nest, bags upon bags piled around his eyes, and a painfully hunched back, Danny Hebert looked as if something had chewed him up and spit him out. Frankly, she was just glad that he hadn't screamed.

"Taylor?" Soft, questioning he spoke. Danny's voice trembled. "Is that you?"

She nodded, her whole body shivering with excitement. If she had eyes, she'd be crying right now.

'Daddy! It's me!'

"Baby…."

"Danny." Alan spoke up. "I know you want to believe it's Taylor, but we'll need at least some proof. And, uh, Taylor, and I do think you are, well, _you_, it's nothing personal.

The lawyer grimaced but Taylor nodded her whole body.

'I understand. Possibility I'm a Changer or Stranger or Master or something equally terrible.'

Sliding over to an empty part of the desk, Taylor concentrated and began to shift into the first thing that came to mind.

"Is that… a flute? Does that mean anything to you Danny?"

Her father was tearing up.

"Baby…." It took him a while before he could speak. "It's Annette's. Little Owl… it's really you."

Taylor let the shape go, having looked more like a vaguely childish drawing of a flute than the actual instrument she was basing it on. But, and this left her both hopeful and despondent, it was still the most effective shapeshifting she'd managed yet.

Baby steps, Taylor. Baby steps!

She quickly recollected herself and moved towards the keyboard.

It was time for another miraculous feat of jelly-bending!

Forming appendages was way harder than it had any right to be. Unlike shape shifting her entire body, making arms or fingers was like trying to stretch out part of herself without changing her basic spherical shape.

It was very much like multitasking. But fortunately, Taylor had all the time in the world to practice. And so she had until forming the tiny nub-like fingers became second nature to her, finally allowing the previously silent slime puddle to finally be able to communicate.

"H-I-D-A-A-D-Y"

Yes!

Mission success!

There was a deafening screech from the otherside as her father stood up abruptly, dragging his body across the metal table as he pressed against the glass wall separating the two of them.

He looked so small. So fragile….

Taylor felt a shiver run through her unshaped body.

She hadn't seen him like that since mom died. Only it was worse. He looked exhausted, angry, relieved, and panicking all at once, banging his arms against the panel fruitlessly and likely calling her name. Not that she could hear him, mind you, they had turned off the microphones while the guards helped Mr. Barnes drag him back down.

It was a long, slow fifteen minutes where she sat there and waited while her father was calmed down. Apparently, the troopers were trained for this situation, or at least just used to it, because they had him sitting in the chair and sipping a cup of coffee instead of under arrest. Eventually, once her fuck up had been… taken care of, Alan began to speak while she just watched her father.

"That is enough, I suppose. Sorry Taylor, we just had to make sure."

She nodded. It was only logical. Though she wished it had caused her father less grief. Still, it was better to focus on the matter at hand and that meant getting an understanding of what could be done for her situation.

She didn't want to be caged, after all.

"W-H-EEN-G-ET-T-O-OU-T?" She typed, internally huffing in frustration at how garbled the message came across.

She watched intently as Mr. Barnes leafed through his documents, reading the very same papers she had seen Miss Militia read to her for the past two days. Taylor understood that there were a lot of crimes that she was being held accountable for, but it didn't stop her from feeling resentment. Especially towards that woman.

Was this how justice worked for capes?

No three strikes and you were out? No sort of mercy or understanding for what was the worst day of her_ life_, worse than when she lost her mother? All the PRT had done, with painfully few exceptions, was remind her that she was in deep shit with them, and she was growing sick and tired of not so subtly being told she was a monster.

'Well, not everyone has been that bad. But….'

Faceless, reflective masks were always intimidating. But when they were silently glaring at you they were downright terrifying.

Mr. Barnes cleared his throat.

"I will be honest with you, Taylor. The situation isn't looking good. Though we have a solid argument for the trauma you went through and its effects on your actions, the fact that the incident involved a Ward is what's causing the PRT to pressure us. If we can prove that Sophia Hess was indeed involved with the assault on you, they might disavow her and let us push the bulk of the blame off you."

The mention of Shadow Stalker's civilian identity made her non-existent skin crawl with both dread and hate.

"However…." His tone took a darker tone. "You're already being tried in the media. Comparisons to Columbine are few and far between, but, well, local talk radio has already made a case for lynching you. Thankfully, you are a minor and a cape so your identity is being protected. All of this is to preface a simple fact. It is the _legal_ system, not the _justice_ system. So, we have very limited options. Additionally I would suggest you look for a more specialized lawyer. I have no issue defending you, and your father has retained my services, but I quite simply do not specialize in… cases of this magnitude."

"I-T I-S O-K."

Taylor rumbled a bit, but she did understand. Alan Barnes was a good man, who'd treated her like a niece and his wife had treated her like a daughter. And their daughter, her best friend and sister in all but blood… was a Ward.

Now that was a revelation that had hit her out of nowhere.

With nothing more to do than to try and piece together her own memories, Taylor had been given plenty of time to meditate on the matter. Her mind had cleared, mostly, and she was now capable of at least recalling longer stretches of the incident.

For one, she distinctly remembered dragging Sophia through a row of lockers. That had been fun.

She also recalled squeezing the life out of Vista's tiny body.

Yeah. No. That she could have gone without.

Still, the one thing she hadn't expected was to recall seeing her best friend wearing body armor and spandex and trying to scoop her off Aegis and Browbeat. She would need to apologize to the boys later, once she was finished asking Emma questions at the top of her voice.

Because Diamond Dust?! She had been Diamond Dust all along? She was best friends with the toughest girl in Brockton Bay and all they had discussed last time they spoke was which kind of sweater would make Taylor look less like a twig.

'So many missed opportunities.' She lamented.

Forgetting who her audience was for a moment, she even let out a sigh. Or at least the blobby equivalent of one.

'My model, superhero best friend and the cutest Ward in the city. This would be a comic book if I wasn't in prison. But hey, it's never a bad thing to be on a first name basis with a pretty girl. Unless you're in jail for terrorism charges of course!'

Flopping over a few times she finished mopping.

"P-L-A-N?"

Danny chuckled, voice thick with unshed tears and anger still glinting in his eyes.

"Right now, Alan and I have applied to the ACLU and the Youth Guard and Alan has filed papers to have you moved to a lower security holding area. And… that's all we can do." The dockworker ran his hands over his face. "I'm sorry kiddo. There's nothing we-I-can do."

Extending a tendril out, she pressed against the glass and pointedly ignored how the trooper shifted uncomfortably in front of her. Danny, knowing what his daughter wanted, extended his finger and pressed it against the glass too.

"Little Owl…."

His eyes were bloodshot but… not muddled. Taylor knew he'd been crying, but not drinking. More than that, his neck was still flushed. That meant his temper was simmering under the surface. More than that, there was a deep frustration and anger in his gaze. Not directed at her, of course, there was only a yearning to actually touch her, love, and protection, and the _need_ to help his daughter. But she knew her dad was ready to fight.

"M-O-M W-O-U-L-D B-E P-R-O-U-D."

They all shared a chuckle. Annette would have been up here raging against the injustice of the system. And somehow, she'd have convinced half a dozen people to join her, gotten the capes to unionize, and managed to walk out of the building with a sincere promise to do better. The power of raw charisma and passion, Taylor supposed.

"Perhaps." The lawyer mused. "Perhaps that's an angle we can use. She was an activist, part of Lustrum's movement before it turned violent? Do you think they'd be interested in helping her daughter?"

Nodding slowly, Danny agreed.

"I… hadn't thought about that. Is there enough of them left? I thought they fell apart?"

"Technically speaking, yes. They were disbanded. But a young girl under attack by the state, after being attacked by a weaponized child, and then held as an enemy of the state?" Alan shot a quick glance at Taylor. "I'm not saying we turn you into a third wave icon, but we do need to build a counter narrative. And _fast_. Not to mention it doesn't make for a bad story."

"E-V-I-D-E-N-C-E?"

"Ah. That is the issue. Quite simply, there isn't all that much either way."

"E-X-P-L-A-I-N?"

"It's circumstantial." He shuffled in place. "There's eyewitness testimony, blurry camera footage, and hearsay. Unfortunately, all the testimony confirms is that you attacked the Wards and temporary insanity can only stretch so far. It's going to be as much about the non evidence argument and presentation of the case as it is the evidence itself."

'Ah.'

She understood very little of that.

"That's lawyer speak for 'the PRT will rake you over the coals and so we need to show that they're the bad guys here'."

'Thanks dad.'

Danny chuckled at her wiggle. That, more than anything else warmed her heart.

"Danny, I'm gonna go speak to the legal guys with the Protectorate and the PRT. Don't do or say _anything_ related to case. Directly or indirectly. Just… catch up. You can talk about how she's feeling or coping, but not the incident _itself_. I'm not _entirely _sure where expectation of privacy ends, but keep this anyways."

Reaching into his coat, Alan withdrew a tape recorder.

"What's this for?"

Her dad asked the question Taylor was thinking.

"Proof. And more importantly, proof that can't be called a deep fake. Keep it running and don't let it get damaged. Now catch up with your daughter." As he turned to walk away, the lawyer hesitated. "And, uh, Taylor… I'm sorry. I was the one that kept you away from Emma. I was worried for her health after, well, you've guessed by now." He couldn't meet her eyes. "This-that-both. I'm sorry."

"I-T O-K. I T-R-U-S-T Y-O-U."

Barnes snorted and shook his head, a habit Taylor recognized from Emma.

"If you say so kiddo."

He was gonna beat himself up. Frowning, Taylor turned to her father and managed to express her displeasure with this outcome. Charades had a practical use, who knew?

"Don't worry. I'll speak to him. I was angry at him top, at first. But I know just enough of what happened to know he was worried about Emma. She… was not in a good place for a while. But that's for the two of you to work out." He smiled. "I am proud of you. Maybe not _glad_ about the whole thing. However, I want to stress something. You stood up for yourself Taylor. And I know your mother would be proud of you too."

Blushing and wriggling and trying to keep her shape, Taylor definitely felt like things were looking up.

'Tiny victories Dad, that's how we're gonna win this!'

And so it was with a good mood that the two finally took the time to actually catch up, Danny's tone growing ever more relieved and Taylor's remaining robotic. Thankfully, her body was still plenty able to let her dad know just how happy she was.

'Being made of bubblegum can make you wonderfully expressive!' Taylor wiggled in happiness. 'And I suppose this power _does_ have a few uses.'

Her only regret is that she couldn't actually hug her dad.

-

Thomas Calvert considered himself a cautious man. One didn't make it as far as he did without a measure of paranoia and self preservation bordering on a manic obsession to ascertain that no threats could be found near himself. It was a habit he had steadily built up to during his career.

Both as a PRT agent and as the villain Coil.

His power was a godsend in that regard, allowing him to map out every step of his day through multiple timelines, then retracing his steps and selecting the most optimal one. It wasn't a very simple process, but it had allowed him to keep off the radar for a great many years, giving him the precious time to build a power base in Brockton Bay. The city with the largest population of parahumans in the USA.

No mean feat.

Even now as he read a rather dull report on the need to apply for funding for a new project, Calvert's mind was far away, handling procedures regarding the eventual dismantling of one of the ABB's casinos.

At this point in time he was still considered small league, unworthy of the big player's notice.

However, that wouldn't always be the case.

Even now he was likely the single best entrenched villain. His mercenaries, his bases, and even his power. They were all formulated to insulate him, the value of which his day job had repeatedly taught him the value of. Compared to the ABB, which was one bad day away from a kill order, or the E88, which was barely tolerated by the sections of the city they occupied, he was… neutral. Some segments of the city, the ones he looked after at least, even had a positive view of him and his men.

And the value of good PR was _limitless_.

"So it's time to set the narrative."

The PRT had recently brought in a young girl. A young girl who had triggered with a _hilariously_ effective combination of powers. And even more delicious than _that_ was the fact it had been a Ward to force her to trigger.

"The best hundred grand I've ever burned."

Between the resources it took for his little… song bird to sing her pretty little lullaby and acquire the phone with the relevant video on it, _without_ alerting the PRT to its existence, he'd spent nearly a hundred thousand dollars. And if it got him this new Trump, it'd be a pittance compared to his returns. The only issue being that he needed to nudge a few other pieces into place. Perhaps it was time to cash in a few favors.

He dropped the timeline and was immediately back inside his main base, secure behind walls of steel and concrete guarded by experienced mercenaries armed to the teeth with the best Tinkertech money could buy.

He took a deep breath, acquainting himself once again with his 'off hours' suit before taking a nondescript black cellphone from one of his drawers.

'First, to acquire another asset.' And dialed a quick sequence of numbers.

There was a brief pause as the phone rang once, twice, then three times.

Their agreed upon number.

Finally, there was a faint click followed by a sigh of exasperation. Music to his ears.

"Coil." A terse voice growled from the other end of the line.

"A good morning to you, good sir. How are you enjoying the trip to france? I hear the weather is pleasant this time of the year." He purred.

There was a hitch on the other side. Excellent.

"How did you…."

"Know? It is my job to know things, dear judge. Just as it is your job to decide upon certain matters of great public importance. I take it the long hours of preparation have been rather draining since you have taken this sudden leave from the capital."

Coil took the long pause as a sign that he had hit the nail on the head yet again.

Oh Tattletale, you knew not how easy you made the game. Such a useful Bishop to have.

"I don't know what you are talking about." The voice replied, clipped.

Denial. How droll. It saved him time at the very least. Being bored with the game had its boons, too.

"If you don't, allow me to tell you. As of thirty two hours and twenty four minutes ago, you were appointed as the judge in charge of managing the procedures of the case involving one Paige Mcabee, otherwise known as Canary. To avoid undue pressure from those who favor Ms. Mcabee's side, and the Elite, you have elected to take a short trip to Europe. Only for the next week, of course."

"What do you want?"

Brusque, more than a bit angry now, the judge was clearly fed up with being black mailed.

"I'll not pretend you don't have proof of something horrific that I haven't actually done. So tell me what you want and let me get back to my grandkids?"

Coil chuckled audibly. A show of force rather than humour.

"Don't worry, I won't keep you for much longer. I have only decided to call you at the behest of a worried citizen who believes that the security measures taken to keep Canary under watch are insufficient. Needless to say, I would like you to move her towards a more… secure facility for the time being."

"And do you have any particular facility in mind?"

Calvert gave a thoughtful hum.

"Perhaps… the maximum security section of the Rig? She's in medium security right now and is a _considerable_ flight risk. This would be for the best."

The minute sound of the man's jaw clenching on the other end was enough to drive a spike of sly amusement through Coil's chest. Easy as it had become lately, he would always gain a measure of satisfaction from outmaneuvering his 'opponents'.

Another pawn successfully moved.

But in the grander scheme of things, there was much, much more to be won, to be _earned_.

He had plenty of pawns to coax. Plenty of rooks to throw at his enemies. Plenty of knights to maneuver behind enemy lines, as well as the best bishop in the world barring one or two exceptions.

But now?

Now was the time to acquire himself a Queen.

"And will that be all?"

Calvert smiled.

"Yes, I do think it will be. Enjoy your trip."

Hanging up, the judge ended the call.

"Well, I suppose I did interrupt his vacation."

Coil chuckled.

"With this in place, I suppose all that's left is to ensure that the two meet. The documents are signed, or will be soon enough, and Canary is ensured a quick trial and an even quicker trip to the Cage. Ms. Hebert, who is almost hilariously emotionally compromised, will imprint on her new friend and when I have her shown the documents recommending she be caged too…. Well, it's hardly difficult to manipulate a teenage girl."

He indulged in a maniacal laugh.

"Muhahahahahahahahahaha!"

It was safe in his base, after all.

And soon enough, between the Travellers, the Undersiders, Faultline's Crew, his mercenaries, and Dinah Alcott he'd have every single piece he needed to take this city for himself. Taylor Hebert would just be the raw muscle to ensure he couldn't be attacked directly, while all he'd have to do is actually get the legal system to take a single look at a case long since decided by the media.

There was no such thing as a sure bet, but Thomas was reasonably sure this was a damn close thing!


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hello to all our faithful readers. The time has come once again for the next installment of Flask! Written by the ever trustworthy Wyvern and his loyal yet not good looking assistant, The Warhawk.**

**AtW: Eh, I can take being ugly. I know what prepositions are!**

**Wyvern: And yet only one of those can change for the better. Now, teasing aside, we hope you all have as much fun reading this as we had writing it!**

**AtW: Hopefully it isn't **_**too**_** angsty. But we wanna show that there's a lot of growth needed. And that, well, psychological trauma leaves scars that can take a long, long time to heal. If ever. Also, the Wards really do have it rough. They're basically child soldiers fighting a war of occupation with no real… benefits? I suppose what I'm saying is, Jesus, they have it harsh.**

**Wyvern: Enough exposition. Now get reading!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Tests and Ordeals**

* * *

"Is the equipment secured?"

"As I told you two minutes ago. Yes, Armsmaster, your precious equipment is fully secure and bolted to the floor. Any more safety measures and I'd have to start bubble wrapping it." The flippant response earned him a flat stare from the bearded hero.

But it wasn't as if Velocity really cared.

The man had been nothing short of insistent since they got the green light from the director on running new tests on Flask's… no, on Taylor's powers. It had taken the larger man all of two days to draw up the blueprints for his newest inventions, requisition the materials required to build the damn things, and then do the actual assembling of the parts.

It wasn't something a normal man would be able to do. Hence why the man had… ahem…'requested' Velocity's aid to speed up the process.

That had been thirty one hours ago.

'No wonder the guy's speciality is efficiency. Blue's as relentless as ever.'

Though the speedster couldn't really blame him this time. Not with what was at stake.

After the PRT staff had been debriefed about the circumstances regarding Taylor Hebert's trigger event and the legal action to be taken, the two heroes had taken it upon themselves to compile as much information as they could about the young woman's power. As Armsmaster was prone to saying, ignorance was poison, and lack of information could be used to paint a much more dangerous picture of the girl. And they'd even gotten official approval as part of their due diligence.

Yes, she had made some pretty bad decisions.

Yes, she was definitely affected by the ordeal. Her current state notwithstanding.

But the speedster still believed that she had been dealt a bad hand, condemned for actions she had taken while not in control of herself.

Piggot's orders had been simple and to the point.

"Test her powers. Be professional."

And he was fine with it. The Director was doing her job, just as they were supposed to be doing theirs. So long as the information they gathered was as comprehensive as possible, there wouldn't be room for deception or implications during court.

They could do that for her, at the very least.

"Flask, can you hear me?" Velocity watched as Armsmaster reached for a button attached to the wall in front of them. The duo had moved into an observation room after their testing ground had been fully assembled and he was silently watching, perhaps even brooding, for the moment.

"Y-E-S S-I-R!" The synthetic reply came through the speakers.

"We will be opening the hatch. Please move to the center of the room and wait for instructions."

The room was a large circle which had been padded from top to bottom and reinforced in order to serve the very purpose of testing the girls powers. All openings and mechanisms had been closed off to prevent her from escaping through gaps with the exception of a small hatch containing a pipe which lead to the outside. Granted, with Miss Militia offering to keep watch he very much doubted the girl would be trying to leave any time soon.

Frankly Velocity thought the woman was overreacting. But, since the other option would be trapping the girl with a very trigger happy Miss Militia and her trusty brute zapper….

It hadn't been a choice at all.

"Opening the hatch." Armsmaster intoned, pressing a large button to the side of the speaker.

At once the northern section of the 'training room' seemed to shift and warp, forming a strange shell-like form pattern as it revealed a small opening in its center.

"You can let her inside, Miss Militia."

"Roger." Came the dry response.

Sighing, Hana turned to her charge. Placing one hand on the glass to get Flask's attention, she still had to stop the involuntary twitch of her trigger finger when two eyes appeared. Shaking her head, she gave the slime girl a wan smile.

"Good luck."

Quivering in apparent delight, the pink slime waved a tendril at her before moving over to the hatch. Flipping a switch, Militia let the blob of bubblegum roll into the testing room. Grunting, she radioed her coworkers.

"She's in. Detaching transport container."

Resealing the hatch, she did just that, taking a moment to toss the jar in her hands, before walking in to join the two men.

Velocity chuckled as the pink blob had already crawled out of the wall by the time Hana finally arrived, the amorphous girl promptly proceeding to take position at the very center of the seemingly empty room. Where, helpfully, a bright red circle had been spray painted on the floor.

Armsmaster, giving him an odd look, pressed the communicator as he flipped a few switches.

"Flask. From this point on we will be testing you on each parahuman category in order to ascertain your ratings in each field. You will be tasked with clearing the objectives set before you to the best of your abilities. If you are aware and consent to this test, please compress yourself twice."

The slime-girl did so, her large eyeballs shifting into focused slits as her body rippled.

"Very well. Our first text will be expansion and compression. According to video evidence, as well as eyewitness statements, you have shown the ability to manipulate your own size at will. Please demonstrate this to us by compressing your mass to as small an area as possible, and then proceed to expand outwards."

Taylor 'nodded' in acceptance, her body once more wobbling, and Velocity could see her visibly shudder as she took a deep mental breath.

Shifting, wriggling, excited and more than a little uncomfortable, Taylor focused up.

'There's no time to waste and I've got _three_ heroes watching me as I get tested!'

It really was go time so she wracked her mind for as much as she had figured out. Mainly that using her power was as much about keeping a mental image of what she wanted as anything else. Compression was meant to be a reduction of her size without affecting her mass. It gave her a sluggish, heavy sensation, like she was trying to move underwater.

A deep crushing force pressing from all sides.

Weight, distant and omnipresent at the same time, condensed around her.

Steadily, Taylor started to… shrink. To her the sensation was akin to tensing the muscles of a limb mixed with the urgency of holding one's breath. The more she tensed the harder it became to 'breath'. Yet there was no pain, only an overall feeling of intensity. As if she might 'slip up' at any time. Not totally uncomfortable, more simply odd. Unnatural, she might say.

'Just a bit more.' She coiled into herself further, dropping to a full fifth of her initial size. Going from a basketball slime to a baseball slime.

Finally, when she felt like she was about to burst, Armsmaster's voice chimed in.

"Good work. Hold that size for as long as you and then gradually decompress."

Even though she had no heart, there was still a rhythmic pumping inside of her. Like… the material that made her up was respirating like the whole mass was a lung. And as she continued to turn more and more inward, the awareness of her self… focused. Normally she was aware of her whole body, a bit like if you were always thinking about your ears, but she didn't really notice the make up of her, well, _insides_.

It was like looking at your liver and being aware of it filtering the fourteen mai tais out of your hungover carcass.

However, the more focused she became on the various specific sections of her overall mass the more wobbles she felt in the back of her mind. So, as the sense of loss of stability grew, she slowly began to relax tense muscles and her body began to expand.

Armsmaster hummed to himself. It was interesting. The more condensed she grew, the darker the color of Taylor's body. A very dark pink, closing in on black, as she reached the densest state she could achieve. Commensurately, as her body grew in volume so too did her color lighten. Obvious indicators, but, potentially, useful information to have. For the life of him, Colin couldn't help but compare her to an off white, car sized beach ball.

"Well done Flask. Compress two times if you wish to continue." Two quick compressions later, and a chuckle from Velocity, Armsmaster pressed another button. "Next up is testing your elasticity. For this test, please return to your normal volume and extend a tendril as far as you can."

Taylor took a moment to recompose herself. Her mass felt 'soft', malleable. It was a strange sensation, akin to feeling goosebumps inside her own body.

A moment later, she formed two arms. She didn't bother with the details, they were the most barebones of nubs which she had first learnt to use for typing. Honestly speaking, she thought they looked silly, but couldn't afford to create better versions if she was going to be bothered maintaining them as she stretched. Details required more focus, which limited her… quantity of mass manipulated.

She'd picked up a lot of fancy terms, listening to Armsmaster speak.

The man was like a living thesaurus, with all the strange one-off words one might expect of a word-calendar. Only it was timed on the hour. Sometimes even the minute.

Scrunching her 'face', Taylor formed a pair of small arms, stretching them forth. Oddly enough, it helped for her to try to form _two_ arms or two legs. Something, Taylor supposed, that was psychosomatic. In that, she thought of two of each as normal. As the default. And so creating them as a pair was easier.

Unlike with expanding and contracting, which required an all consuming awareness, stretching her limbs restricted that awareness to just two areas of the body, meaning that control was much more important than raw will. Even then, details took more focus on top of that. Basically, right now, she could make one normal finger, totally lacking in prints, but that looked basically realistic.

But she didn't want realistic.

Pushing and pushing and pushing and feeling those wobbles start to form, she tried to touch the far wall of the room. Frankly, it looked hilarious, her normal basketball sized self with two long pink noodles stretching out from her sides.

It was utterly comical. And she suspected even Armsmaster would have chortled, supposing he hadn't seen her use them to pulverize an entire hallway full of lockers.

Just brushing the edge of the far wall, the tips of her limbs narrowing down to an ultra fine point, she collapsed. As in, her entire mass lost cohesion. Now as a puddle of goop, she had to pretend not to see Miss Militia snort in visible amusement.

'At least Velocity isn't… nevermind.'

Only Armsmaster hadn't started laughing. Feeling suddenly cold, Taylor deflated further. Her limbs shrinking back into her main mass. But, no matter how she tried, she just couldn't muster the control needed to return to her normal shape.

Thankfully, her eyes were still intact so she could see Armsmaster look at the other two. Velocity had a final chuckle while Miss Militia just shrugged. Somehow, she knew that Armsmaster was looking at them harder and Velocity held up his hands in surrender, Armsmaster pressing the communication button on the console and the two amused capes started speaking.

"Hey Flask, sorry about laughing. That was unprofessional and I really wasn't trying to upset you. I apologize."

Miss Militia's professional tone rang out soon after Velocity's obviously heartfelt apology.

"I apologize for the misconduct. Please proceed." Taylor heard what she said and what she didn't say and knew that it was the best she was gonna get.

From the window facing her watchers, Taylor could tell that the woman had been staring intently at her throughout the battery of tests. She had likely watched the recordings from the Ward's helmets, Taylor had some pieced together memories to rely upon, but even she wasn't aware of how she did those things.

Militia, however, seemed to pierce through her small gelatinous body with a stare that spoke of great intelligence. She was analyzing her, understanding her, noticing things about her power that even Taylor likely hadn't noticed yet.

They hadn't talked since Militia read her the riot act. Armsmaster had seen fit to keep them apart so as to not poison whatever goodwill and rapport he and Velocity had managed to build with her.

It made sense, and Taylor could see why the woman might not be her biggest fan.

Everyone knew she trained the Wards. Had been part of the very first team of Wards and then requested to be put in charge of her own. Whatever else they might be to the woman, they were her proteges and responsibility.

And Taylor had put them through a bloody meat grinder.

'Surely they'd seen worse? Faced worse?' Taylor mused. 'But, I didn't give them a chance. When I was… berserk, likely suffering from a psychotic break according to those documents Dad gave me, I didn't pull my punches."

At all. She'd been feral, rabid, and very much aiming to kill.

She'd almost gotten Sophia, too. The stupid girl had hurt her. Taylor didn't remember _how_, but the sensation of sudden, all consuming agony had flared inside her chest before slowly fading away.

When she wasn't careful, the sensation of feeling Sophia's neck slowly giving out under her tentacles made her smile.

That hadn't been a fun realization, that there was a part of herself dark enough to enjoy hurting someone. Not that Taylor hadn't fantasized about punishing Sophia or even beating her up… but never _killing_ her. And especially not strangling her death. Shivering, she finally pulled herself back together.

Forming a _very_ rough thumbs up, Taylor communicated that she was feeling well enough to continue.

"All right then, I'd say that the next is for movement, but I think we can postpone that. Would you like to test your resistance to ballistic weapons now?"

Taylor would have giggled if she could. She was basically impossible to damage without energy weapons, they already knew that, but exact limits would be helpful both to her and the PRT. So, wriggling in excitement, she watched as hidden panels in the roof of the room slid open, the whir of an electric motor filled the air, and a loud crack filled the world as Taylor felt like she'd just been hit really, _really_ hard by a pillow.

There was no pain as her mass was scattered across about ten square feet. Not that she had an _exact_ gauge on the distance. More that it felt like she was about that splattered. It was… odd.

'Hey, I'm a bubblegum slime. Odd doesn't cover it. But now that I've got ahold of this...'

She was gobsmacked. Swallowing up the rubber bullet, she'd made an unimaginable discovery. It was _tasty!_ Sure, everything she'd eaten had been pretty ok, especially that tuna fish sandwich, but rubber wasn't _food_. Right now it tasted….

'Like electric dark chocolate? Really dark chocolate, but, also somewhat like gum or semi sweet syrup?'

Wriggling again, she finished her treat off and pulled her mass together, giving Armsmaster another big thumbs up. Just as soon as she did, several more shots rang out. This time, she was ready, so when they slammed into her they created large bubbles inside of her body that then popped, splattering some of her a good ways away, but mostly absorbing the impact.

A full half dozen shots set her to jiggling and it took nearly twice as long for her to figure out how to stop shaking as it did to gather herself together and finish munching on the bullets.

'Wait… eating rubber bullets isn't normal. Was I supposed to do this?'

Understandably, consuming the ammunition hadn't been one of the things Armsmaster had prepared her for judging from the nonplussed look on his face and the shocked one on Velocity's face. The way her mass sizzled with delight as it consumed the rubber bullets reminded Taylor of bubbling acid.

Never mind the strange shivers which seemed to fill her with anticipation. This new development bore some thinking about.

Mainly, she wondered what other things would taste like.

It wasn't like she had tried to munch on the walls of her cell. The PRT would bottle her up if she so much as thought about doing something like that. That and she wouldn't have been able to fit the whole thing inside her mass.

'I do kind of wonder what they taste like though….'

If rubber tasted like solid syrup, what would metal and glass and top notch wiring taste like?

Hmm. Maybe it would be tangy like fruity jelly? Or crunchy and salty like popcorn.

A strange sensation of emptiness filled her. An uncomfortable rumbling filling her 'core'.

'Great… now I feel hungry.'

"Flask, there's one last test and then we'll break for lunch. Do you feel up to trying to resume human shape? You're not a Case 53 so it's entirely possible that you might simply be stuck in a breaker state. Though, admittedly, you might also have alternate biology. We're unsure and we'd like to have you try."

Armsmaster, ever blunt and to the point, always got Taylor focused.

'Maybe being a person would be nice again… but being indestructible is nice too.' A sudden, horrifying thought hit her. 'What if I bring all that crap from the locker with me!' Another, even more terrifying thought hit her with all the force of a freight truck.'What if I don't bring anything and I'm naked!?'

She didn't remember a whole lot of what happened inside the locker, just the odd sensation of 'slipping' through it as her body became liquid and unshappen. It wouldn't be impossible for her to have slipped out of her clothes too.

And of course she might have just eaten them. She… couldn't rule that out.

'Still worth a try, though.' She reasoned.

These past few days all Taylor had when it came to spending her free time was figuring out how to use her new powers. Like forming eyes, ears, digits.

It's what allowed her to interact with her surroundings instead of just being an unresponsive little puddle of slime. The culmination of that, she guessed, would be to regain a human body or whatever approximation was possible. Like Armsmaster said, she might just have alternate biology. But that was no reason to not try!

Compressing her body twice, she communicated her willingness to continue.

With her previous changes. All she had to envision were the utilities and desire the vague inner workings of her new appendages.

This was different.

She thought of her long black her. Her mother's hair which she loved so much.

She thought of her too tall, too spindly frame. Not enough curves to compare even with younger girls, with long limbs that she'd been teased about more than once. Indeed, before she had literally broke down Taylor had been far from perfect.

And maybe… just maybe… this could be her chance to correct it?

She was a shapeshifter. Perhaps the strongest example to exist in Brockton. So there shouldn't be any reason for this to be beyond her abilities, no? She didn't need to be the most gorgeous woman in the world.

... She just wanted to be anyone other than 'Taylor Hebert', with her too thin body and too long arms. Her mind turned to those dark places she'd done her best to ignore. And as she turned inwards, touching on who and what she _was_, all she could remember were the words and barbs and fits of pique. They all agreed, she was so weak and ugly that no one ever stood up for her, that she was pushed around every single day of her life, and that all she could do was flail around like some _monster_ the first time she tried to do something about it.

With her mind roiling and twisting and turning in upon itself endlessly she _pushed_ without thinking. Her mass writhed and wrapped around itself as it shifted. Pressure, slow and steady and pulsing, began to build within her mind and body. Moving, though she was remaining perfectly still, her sense of self changed and spiked.

Suddenly, she was five feet taller, balance suddenly becoming an issue as she waved and teetered at the sudden change. Wet tearing sounds filled the air as her body split, legs and arms, feeling thick and heavy and unwieldy, pushing themselves out of her mass. Eyes and lips and nose now forming, she felt the air run through her head.

And something was wrong.

Even through the dull, throbbing migraine building behind where she formed her eyes, there was a sense of inherent _no_.

Blinking, her vision had gone dark for a long moment, Taylor stared into the reflective glass of the two way mirror. And she almost screamed.

Her hands were dragging across the floor, long, thin fingers dancing like spider legs. Her shoulders were uneven, one several inches higher than the other and filled with darkened knots of tensed mass. Her legs were flat, tree like things that were the least horrific by virtue of being entirely featureless. And her face… she would have wailed if she'd formed vocal cords. It was mutilated, that was the only way to describe it. Long, jagged, and ugly her mouth stretched from ear to ear. She couldn't even look into her eyes, the two holes were like gaping mouths, and her nose was a jagged scap of pink flesh stretched over a faux skull.

Taylor fell apart, turning into a massive puddle and not moving.

* * *

While Taylor went through her battery of tests, another such event was taking place on the opposite side of the Rig. The medical department of the local PRT headquarters was particularly spacious, meant to be occupied by at least two dozen people at any given time due to the constant scuffles its members tend to get entangled with.

There were six beds on both sides of the room, three of which were occupied.

"Dude, can we please like, not watch the news all day? It's boring." Clockblocker whined from his seat on the middle bed to the left. As to be expected of the teenager, there was a generalized mess around him, coupled with discarded snack packs and sweets.

Hospital food, even superhero hospital food, still tasted… aggressively bland after all.

"Gotta keep up to date, Dennis. Who knows what might be happening while we're stuck here?" Carlos, better known as Aegis, retorted calmly.

Which got him a snort from the younger boy.

"Yeah, learning about Scotland's new tax on the fishing industry will definitely come up while we are off fighting the Merchants."

"Oh shut up, Dennis. We are all bored here and you know the PRT doesn't have cable TV." Vista, who was sitting closer to the left wall, gave the time-powered teen an unimpressed stare… which made her seem like a particularly pouty young girl rather than the intimidating scowl she meant it to be.

"How would I know that? I've never been quarantined before."

Carlos grunted.

"First time for everything. And they're just being cautious." The hispanic boy turned his head away. "My powers are still out of wack. So they need to confirm that there's none of Flask left inside of us."

No one realized how much of a mistake the brown boy had just made until Dennis began to snicker.

"Hehehehe. Hey Missy. Guess what?"

"I swear to god you better not say what I think you're about to say!"

If he'd been feeling better, Aegis never would have made that mistake. As it was, he was more than a little disoriented. Because of this, he was just a second too slow.

"You had a tentacle monster inside you!"

Vista's reply had been to throw a pillow at the boy. Of course, he had been too busy laughing himself silly to notice it and was wacked across the head. One should never underestimate the hardness of such objects, as its speed, density, and mass were more than enough to send the older teenager tumbling out of bed and into the floor.

At least it was when Missy used her powers to warp space just a teensy bit and accelerate the pillow several times the speed she would normally be capable of throwing it.

Gasping, sprawled on the floor he managed one last quip.

"Was it as good for you 'gasp' as it was for Flask?"

Missy growled. The kind of growl that told the world Dennis was about to lose something important. Thankfully, Carlos was fully aware by now and ready to put his foot down. Or in it, if he wasn't firm enough. Either way, his tone snapped out and had the other two shutting up.

"Enough! Are you ten! Dennis, get back in bed and give Missy her pillow back. Missy, calm down and turn the T.V. up. And both of you, do _not_ speak to each other."

Mutinous would have been a particularly charitable way to describe the blonde heroine's glare, but she was too professional to refuse a direct order. Dennis, for his part, moaned and groaned his way back into bed. But when he started to wind himself up Carlos shot him "the Look". The Look was something he'd learned from Armsmaster and Miss Militia. And the fact that he had _two_ teachers meant Dennis shut up so fast his jaw made an audible click.

Fortunately the TV deigned to break the ice.

_"In other news. Earlier this week, the Mayor has issued a new statement regarding what has been labeled by authorities as the 'Winslow Attack'. Three days have passed since the tragedy which saw the entirety of the Wards team injured when an unknown villain, codenamed 'Flask' attacked the school…"_

The effect was immediate. A dour silence falling over the trio as they watched low definition footage of their… let's call it an altercation with the slime villain flicker through the TV. It was barely recognizable, with only their suit's colors and Flask's own bright pink mass helping them make out their bodies.

Not that there was much to see.

Most of the time they were covered in pink goop.

They flinched when a video of Shadow Stalker pouncing into Flask with a knife flashed through. The shiv was a grey blur, frankly it looked more like a rock or chunk of debris, but they were there. It was impossible to forget the utterly, totally feral rage the black girl was consumed by.

"She… certainly wasn't at her best that day." Aegis commented evenly.

The girl's hand just sank into the pink blob with a wet plop, which only seemed to make Flask even angrier.

"I heard that she was rabid when Panacea woke her up. Glory Girl had to hold her down." Dennis shuffled awkwardly.

They all had been somewhat affected by the Winslow Attack. Aegis body had been thrown out of balance so many times by slime that he was still suffering involuntary spasms, his brain still coping with having his redundant biology returned to him. According to the doctors, it was probably psychosomatic.

Dennis hadn't participated in the action for the most part. Once it became apparent that Flask was some kind of touch based power negator he had run off to call for reinforcements. Did he feel useless and out of his depth? Hell yeah! But he hadn't been nearly choked out by the thing like Missy.

Poor girl was still shivering and wincing when people got too close. Not to mention she had developed the habit of patting her neck.

Thankfully Panacea had gotten rid of the bruises. And by bruises, he went three inch wide welts that covered her neck and a cracked hyoid. If flask had used much more force she would have snapped Missy's neck.

Sophia was still in isolation after she tried to punch one of the nurses and would likely stay there until she stopped having night terrors. Browbeat was fine for the most part, though Dennis wasn't close enough to the guy to know how the other Ward thought, but he was a trooper. Solid and dependable, if a bit too stoic sometimes.

Chris was doing some light therapy with Miss Militia, as well as doing a corrective course on 'gun safety', as ordained by Miss Piggy. And Gallant was somehow fine. Apparently, he'd passed out before he was cocooned and so didn't wake up until after the fight. On top of that, the two of them had been only minimally injured. Because of that those two had been cleared after twenty four hours of observation. Unfortunately, their last team mate wasn't as lucky.

Emma… had shut down.

For a while she'd been a bit manic, having been mostly unconcerned. Once the adrenaline had worn off, about half way back to the Rig, she'd become monosyllabic. After the debriefing was over Missy had found her crying in the toilet. They'd just been told what the identity of Flask was suspected of being and it didn't take long for them to figure out it had been connected.

Especially since they had all heard Flask calling her name.

Right now she was finishing the last physical before the seventy two hour watch was finished and they'd be allowed out. But while everyone had been given mandatory time with counselors, they all suspected Emma had gotten the most. Other than Sophia at least, but she had been a basket case before the fight.

"So, uh, you guys think Ems is gonna be ok?"

Everyone knew Dennis had a crush on the red head. And no one blamed him for it, she was attractive and they were all, sans Missy, teenagers. But Carlos could only shrug.

"Probably not. Seems like she and Flask were close. I overheard her shrink, by the way." The other two turned to look at him, Missy now more concerned than annoyed. "Well, it seems like she and Flask were real close before Diamond Dust triggered. After that, you know, being a Ward and stuff."

And that was the truth. They _all_ knew how demanding eighty hour weeks were. Some of them, like Missy, even loved being a cape because of the sheer amount of time it ate up. Being a badass was definitely a bonus too.

"I… heard from Militia that they were going to prosecute Flask." Missy mumbled. "The attack is getting a lot of coverage and people are scared that more people might take after her."

"You mean they are going to railroad her like Canary." Dennis bit out. "Straight to the Birdcage, no questions asked."

Vista's face darkened, her eyes narrowed into slits.

"She attacked Wards, Dennis. That kind of stuff can't really be swept under the rug."

"Yeah. But do we even know why? By the time we got there Sophia had already been bashed through a dozen locker rooms. What's to say she didn't jump the gun?"

Missy frowned.

"You make a point, but are we really gonna side with a total stranger about something that Sophia might or might not have done? I mean, I don't _like_ her, but she's never screwed me over during a patrol. So, you know, there's that."

Dennis bit his lip before speaking slowly.

"We all know about the rumors. Stalker wasn't a particularly nice vigilante before the PRT brought her in. I mean, she was a bitch to us from the get go so it's not like we're supposed to like her."

"And that gives a random cape the right to bash her through metal walls to the point Panacea had to piece her spine back together?" Carlos hissed.

"Remember what Miss Militia said? That Flask was a new trigger? You know how rough that is. We all know. So imagine the first thing that happens after you go through something like that is Shadow Stalker being her usual charming self? Wouldn't you want to go a few rounds with her?"

Aegis face colored in anger, but he bit back the scathing reply.

It wasn't that Dennis was wrong. Everyone knew that the only Ward Sophia Hess put up with was Diamond Dust. She behaved perfectly well around the redhead. But once the other heroine wasn't around, she became verbally abusive and spiteful. Quick to anger and even quicker to pick up a fight.

So yes, he could see Shadow Stalker biting off more than she could chew after antagonizing a recent trigger.

"Look, she's our team mate. And we've never gotten more than a really, _really_ shitty attitude from her. She's a bitch, I won't deny that. But if being a bad person was a crime half the Capes in the PRT would be in prison." Carlos narrowed his eyes. "Right now, we only have rumors and theory. Let's wait for the investigation to finish. And besides, Miss Militia was pushing for a custodial sentence, not prison time. If even _she_ thinks that, you know Flask is in a bad way."

"Taylor… her name is Taylor."

The three stiffened in shock.

The comment had been a whisper, if barely, but the intensity of the stare their teammate was levelling at them was enough to make them gulp in anxiety.

Emma Barnes, or Diamond Dust when in the field, had become something of a grounding presence for the Wards. She was stubborn and driven unlike anything a normal teenager should be. Her powers were rare and top notch, and she was willing to make up for her lack of training in a way that would make even the hardest drill sergeant shed tears of pride.

But she was also kind.

Deceptively gentle for someone who could punch holes through solid concrete, and unlike a certain collateral damage barbie, she had this tight control about her that made many wonder if she wasn't secretly Miss Militia's protege. In the end, the girl felt more like someone who knew what she wanted and did not want to be. She wasn't perfect, she still screwed up, but the fact that Emma was willing to grow and to learn and had so much of a drive to help the rest of the team where and when she could made her their _comrade_.

"Ems…." Dennis was dumbstruck. "Are you… can I-we-help?"

Black circles around red, bloodshot eyes, no makeup, her hair a rat's nest, and clad in a pair of grey, shapeless sweats the redhead looked… miserable. Utterly, totally miserable. And she just shrugged.

"Call her Taylor." Her shoulders sagged and Missy got up, walking over to her friend and hugging her. "I… it's the least I can do. Her name is Taylor Hebert and she's a kind, sweet, smart girl and this is all my fault."

"Come on, let's sit down." Missy dragged her friend over to the bed. "And tell us what you mean, ok?"

They all knew that when people started blaming themselves it was never good to deny it, but better to work through it. Basic psychology that all Wards picked up from their own therapy sessions. And one of the few things that the Youth Guard had actually gotten right.

"I forgot her. It's all my fault." Emma deflated, Dennis and Carlos both getting up and putting their hands on her shoulders. No one else spoke, they were ready to wait. "She… she needed me, you know? Her mom died in a car crash and her dad took it hard. Sick, crying, or just depressed I was the only person she really stayed in contact with. And I… forgot her."

"No Emma, we know you wouldn't. Tell us what happened."

No one was crying, but Carlos's words were heavy with sorrow, with empathy for his friend and teammate. They'd trained together, fought together, bled together, and even saved each others lives. Their pain was shared.

"I…." Thick with unshed tears, Emma hiccuped. "She went to a summer camp, you know? Like the kind with horse back riding and knot tying and all that kind of _stuff_."

They nodded, once more waiting for her to continue.

"That was when I triggered. I was attacked by the ABB. My dad was there, they hurt him. Threatened my mom and sister. And I… hurt them." Emma shivered and Missy pulled the hug tighter. "The cops said it was self defense, open and shut case. They were grown men attacking a lawyer and his family. But it was the same as… Winslow."

Wringing her hands yet still not crying, Emma shook as if she was freezing and grabbed onto her teammates; desperate for the surety of their presence.

"But Taylor's kind and sweet and even though she was still hurting she knew I was too so she dropped everything to try and help me and I-!"

She clammed up.

It was a long, pregnant few minutes before she spoke again.

"I forgot her…."

A small hand curled around hers.

"Hey hey…" Missy shushed her. It was almost comical, the younger of the two having to act mature and console the much larger and older girl who couldn't stop sobbing.

"That's not true and you know it. It was around that time that you triggered, right? Doesn't that mean you were hurting too and needed help?" Missy gave her a light squeeze. "You can't expect to be the perfect heroine who can be everything for everyone. Not when you were just as hurt as she was, maybe even a bit more… broken."

"She was my sister. I loved her like she was my sister! And I'm the one who asked her to go to Winslow." Emma's frustration was clear on her face. "Taylor's _smart_, smart-smart, and she had the grades to get into Arcadia on a full scholarship. But she went to Winslow because I didn't. And I forgot to tell her that I was a Ward and that she didn't have to go to that Hell hole and get bullied and deal with all that _fucked up bullshit on her own!_"

Carlos sighed and Dennis stammered.

"But you didn't do this to her!" When Emma glared at him, he flinched. However, just as he did, so too did he recover. With a straight spine he met her glare with one of his own. "It was messed up, totally, but what about the principals? What about her teachers! Her dad was dealing with a dead wife and you were dealing with being almost-" He stopped short. "Almost being _really_ badly all have a right to mourn and to heal. It's _them_ we should be angry at."

Grunting, Carlos agreed.

"Overworked, understaffed, underfunded, or maybe just pathetic and lazy. Winslow's problems aren't just because of the gangs. And their staff isn't exactly known for watching over the students there. On top of that, you were serving the city. Helping prevent what happened to you and what happened to her mother from happening again."

"I triggered when I was ten, because my parents were having an argument." Missy's voice was quiet but they all listened, Emma finally returning the hug and pulling the young blonde in. "They were screaming. Dad had just had mom's dogs put down. Mom had just told dad about fucking his brother when he was in the hospital with cancer. They were screaming, throwing things, and it had been like that for three days."

Dry, monotone, and utterly devoid of emotion she continued.

"I wanted them to stop. To not act like such spoiled children. He killed my dog and mom broke Gram's mirror that she'd given to me. It was my last gift from her before she'd died. And it went on and on. Then I snapped. I destroyed my room when I triggered, I didn't mean to, but it finally got them to shut up."

Missy sighed.

"I hate them, you know? Not just _dislike_. But I _hate_ them. I want them to die. A lot. Not all the time, but most of it. Emma, you're my sister too. And you two are my brothers. Even if you are an idiot Dennis and you can't help but be an emotionless, too perfect ass Carlos. But I still love you. And Chris and Dean and even Browbeat despite the fact he still won't tell us his freaking name."

She took the chance to scratch her cheek.

"What I'm saying is that I'd be pissed if you messed up, but I'd forgive you. And being angsty isn't helping… Taylor, right?" Emma nodded. "So you should go help her. Have you done anything already? Saw her? Gave her a call?"

Nodding, Emma spoke up.

"I called my dad. She's, um, her dad's working class. They wouldn't be able to afford a lawyer. Daddy's not _this_ kind of lawyer, but he can help. I think."

"Hah! Good job Ems!" Dennis was a bit manic again. "Already getting sh-stuff done! Now, have you put in an official request to speak to a prisoner yet? If not, Chris can help you. He files that whenever Rune gets arrested so he can see his girlfriend."

They all chuckled. Carlos, however, spoke before Emma worked up the courage to respond.

"Give her dad a call then. Let him know the truth of what happened. From your perspective, at least. It'll hurt, but at least he'll know. And he'll know that Taylor at least came out of there in one piece for _sure_."

Emma sighed.

"I'm not sure if there is anything that can really hurt her anymore. Not with her powers."

Dennis winced.

"Not gonna lie, Emma. Your friend is kinda scary. All those squiggly tentacles. It felt like that one time I choked on a piece of bubblegum. Only this time the taste was better…"

Gasping, the redhead made a strangled choking sound while Carlos blinked in confusion. Somewhat prepared by his earlier joke, Missy, however, was the first one to recover.

"So while I'm the main girl, you were the one who actually _enjoys_ the tentacle rape!"

They all laughed. Once Dennis finished spluttering, of course.


	5. Interlude I - Coil

**AN: Hello people of the internet and loyal readers. Wyvern and the Warhawk are back again with the double tap. First a chapter, now an interlude. Our very first interlude!**

**AtW: Hey guys. This was originally gonna be in the last chapter but it became too big, so we lopped it off. This was also gonna be just three thousand words, then four, then five. But, well, we called it here. Two quick ground rules, we post when we're done so don't expect chapters more than VERY roughly once a week and two this is all from Coil's POV. Some things might be true, some might not. But this is how HE sees things.**

**CW: Guy is twisted. Charming. But twisted. I had a ton of fun writing from his perspective.**

**AtW: A quick shout out to two reviewers, Dragon8188 and and Frostywolf. dragon, you're hugely enthusiastic and caught a major misspelling (and that means a LOT) and frosty, you let me ramble on and on XD**

**CW: And with no further a do. Let the reading begin!**

**Interlude I: Coil**

Calvert had to fight the urge to sweat. Piggot had called a meeting for the senior staff relating to the recent incident and he'd been forced to attend in both timelines. A risk, a possibly fatal one at this junction, but there was literally no excuse the Director would accept.

Considering the fact that not only he, the commander of the Special Response Team, but the six normal division leaders, the commander of base security, the heads of the legal, PR, medical, _and_ psychiatric departments were all there it meant something _big_ was about to happen. The kind of thing he'd want to have a split available for. Grimacing, he settled down in two different seats, thank god they didn't have assigned seating, and prepared to wait.

The double doors opened abruptly, sending a pulse of adrenaline through Calvert's veins as he watched Director Piggot, accompanied by two troopers, strode into the meeting room.

She looked… tired.

Not a favorable point for either timeline.

There was something morbidly fascinating for a man like him so used to control and security, to be forced to sacrifice his protections. His many, _many_ layers of protections. And he had a strong feeling it all boiled down to his current power plays.

'Too many boats on the water. I need to trim down my current operations. Maybe… cut Hess loose. The potential is strong, but if Piggot is going to tell us what I think she is, the girl may be damaged goods.'

He knew going into this that risks would have to be taken. It was the price demanded for success, one only the bold were willing to pay.

Of course, if everything was going according to plan then this meeting would be about…

"I will get straight to the point. Exactly three hours ago I received a call from Judge McCartney. According to him, Boston currently lacks the means properly hold and contain the parahuman known as Canary. As such he has ordered that she be transferred here, to a maximum security cell on the Rig, to await trial."

As she sat down Calvert was reminded of the woman who'd survived Ellisburg. Her eyes were hard, her spine straight, and she almost seemed to look less weathered down by her failing kidneys. It highlighted the differences in the room. She was one woman in civilian dress, but her eyes were like his. Like the other commanders. They were in full uniform, sans vest and helmet, and though they hadn't sat together, it was clear they _sat together_.

In their eyes, in their posture, in the way the civilians subconsciously clustered around Piggot.

'As if Boarhound had anything but contempt for snivelling cowards and soft lickspittles.' Calvert's thoughts turned dark. Piggot had been an attractive woman, once. Well, at least she had been to him. 'Piggot, I hate you for letting your fear stop you. And I won't be able to give you a clean exit. But I'll cover your retreat.'

Refocusing on the here and now, thoughts of Ellisburg faded as his once and current commanding officer began to speak; her voice as clear and powerful as it was on that day.

"I brought up the usual concerns. He shut me down. The situation is as follows. Two high profile parahumans are either held, or will be within the next twenty four hours, within this facility. Page Mcabee, Canary's civilian name, is already becoming the rallying cry for parahuman rights activists."

With a remote in hand, Piggot pressed a button to reveal various news articles, all of them from various sources and different authors from all over the country.

There was no pattern or reason.

Just general outrage.

"There was a leak of a battery of letters submitted to the Protectorate and PRT high command. They were submitted to some three dozen alternative media commentators and have now been widely circulated online. This has _considerably_ increased the likelihood of protests."

The monitor flickered to reveal small hordes of people taking to the streets carrying cutouts of the young musician. Across multiple cities, many people had suddenly decided to stand up in defense of the cape girl. Not enough to make a difference.

'Not without a bit of prodding at least.'

"We have yet to ascertain the source of the leak. Nor have we managed to pinpoint the culprit for the organized and targeted release. At this stage it would be more productive to consider this an act of general sabotage." 

Calvert almost sighed when her eyes didn't leave the monitor.

He knew there was an IA squad dedicated solely to finding out who got ahold of Dragon's letters, but this time he hadn't, technically, done anything illegal. The Tinker was more than happy to supply a concerned official with all the evidence she had collected. At any rate, it could still be disastrous if additional suspicion fell on him.

"Normally-" Piggot continued. "This would not be an issue. However Taylor Hebert, cape name Flask, is also being held. here Because of the political implications of her trigger event, she is considered a terrorist at the moment. She is facing some fifty separate felonies."

A long, very long, list of accusations flickered through the screen and he had to bite back the urge to whistle appreciatively. It was a rather complex and often times ridiculous compilation of accusations.

He expected someone along the lines of Lung or the Slaughterhouse to get a laundry list of that magnitude.

"Can we even accuse her of most of these?" One of the officials queried.

Calvert knew the answer already.

Technically yes, but no, not really.

While her altercation with the Wards, outside of the injuries sustained by Shadow Stalker, had caused injuries to law enforcement officers, and they were, legally, LEOs, and was technically resisting arrest, the fact Hess was the potential cause of everything was a _huge_ issue for any prosecuter dumb enough to take this case.. The fact that the fight occurred inside a school was the main force driving the narrative the PRT and the Mayor were using to paint Flask as a domestic terrorist. And even that was mostly the Mayor's Office.

He knew that, officially, the PRT had recommended certain charges be filed and those had been far fewer than actually were. Logically, this meant the DA had taken his orders and run. Never mind the fact they'd had seventy two hours or so to investigate and a normal investigation like this could take three to four months.

In actuality, the sole thing keeping the case together was the fact that no video corroborating the girl's version of the story could be recovered and her journals were purely circumstantial. 

Piggot grimaced, actually worrying her lip for a moment, and he knew she was thinking like he was.

"We can't, and aren't, doing anything except what is ordered by all legal authorities and mandated by our regulations. I'm not eager to let a broken child that can take out a team of Wards walk…. But this one is a bad pack. And we've unofficially admitted as such."

Every commander at the table winced. They knew that slang, feared it too, and one of them, Calvert wasn't paying enough attention to the group to notice which, spoke up.

"How's her old man taken it? And her legal team? How many sharks are we gonna be beating off?"

"Her father has responded to this poorly. As the head of hiring for the Dockworker's Union, and an occasional representative for state and national union meetings, he has multiple political allies. Local lawyer Alan Barnes has been retained and so far the whole of his union has backed. Disturbingly, he has reached out to numerous former associates of his deceased wife."

Now Calvert was actually interested. This was new information, even if he already suspected the broad strokes.

"All of whom are former members of Lustrum, a militant feminist, socialist movement. This, combined with a social media campaign, and inquiries to a number of other human rights, parahuman rights, child rights, civil rights, socialist, communist, and two radical constitutionalist organizations means he's currently creating the single most significant alliance of anti-PRT forces in U.S. history to save his daughter."

She paused once more and Calvert had to give it to her, the situation did sound rather bleak. Unless he didn't know what he did, he would have assumed there'd be not insignificant political war about to occur. Fortunately for him, he did. And he was _more_ than ready to use that.

"This incident has also incensed the Empire 88, who are claiming a racial motivation behind the alleged attack. As of right now, it is strongly believed by their group that it was a student of African American origin that assaulted, tortured, and imprisoned Taylor Hebert, which in turn resulted in her triggering."

Calvert's face was a mask of serene tranquility.

In no way, shape or form was he related to those rumors leaking out. He had certainly not allowed a similar form of gossip to take root around one of the usual E88 rallies. Nor had he appointed one of his usual associates to attend said rally.

It was all, of course, a matter of bad luck.

Fate at its finest.

"Due to the poor economic situation, currently charged political climate, and low level national attention they are pushing this advantage. _Hard_. Gang recruiting has ramped up, there have been thirteen reported assaults on ethnic minorities in the last twenty four hours, and the Empire's official social media and news departments are being rather measured. They've declared the attacks to be not affiliated with the Empire as well as taking a strong class based, vaguely patriotic stance on the whole thing. Suffice to say, the ABB and Archer's Bridge Merchants have both responded by increasing recruiting as well."

'Fucking Nazis.' Calvert hadn't known all of _that_. Suspected a lot. But this situation was looking bad. As bad as the Texas Standoff bad. 'And thank God Piggot is such a hardliner. The woman won't know when to bend _or_ play politics. This would blow up in her face without me. I can't believe it worked this well.'

His lips turned ever so slightly downwards.

'I'll need to make sure she has an exit strategy.'

"As such, the likelihood of violence occurring at those protests is considered to be high. The Think Tank estimates a probability in the ninety percent range should either Canary or Flask be sentenced to Bauhman there will be violent riots. At the moment, Canary's trial is concluding and they also estimate a near one hundred percent probability that she will be convicted. Dr. Bronski, please give us the legal analysis."

As Piggot finished, she nodded to a middle aged man with severe acne scars and shaved head. Nodding back, he stood up.

"Thank you Director. Technically speaking, no crimes have been committed by the official E88 media presence. They have been taking extreme measures not to do anything that could be construed as a call to violence or actionable threat."

'They're Nazis, not idiots. Move on already.' Sue him, he hadn't tortured anyone in a couple weeks. 'Or has it been a month? Damnit, focus up Calvert!'

"However, this does not mean they aren't building up to something like that. The legal department has also gotten sixteen warrants through to allow stop and search actions and pat downs on all Empire affiliated members, vehicles, or suspicious structures. Make sure your men are _entirely_ willing to go to court over something and make sure they're all wearing their body cameras, but we've bought you a little wiggle room. Furthermore, my professional opinion on the case facing Flask is that it's burdensome and likely to result in multiple challenges."

That… was actually useful. Calvert had to admit that was even a little _impressive_.

'This is gonna be like the wild, wild west isn't it?'

"Should we face a significant out of town protests, I'll make sure full legal briefs are prepared on the pertinent procedures. Furthermore, as per Executive Order - Vigilant Guardian, any press interference with PRT or Protectorate activities constitutes a breach of the peace and is a clear and present danger to the public. Cuff 'em, please don't tase them."

Bronski sat down and Piggot nodded to the next man, this one a younger, brown haired twenty something with a small beer gut.

"Hello. I'm Wood, head of the P.R. department. Right now there's about four different narratives being spun. Our official narrative, the Empire's counter narrative, the Opposition's counter narrative, and a growing set of conspiracy theories."

'Thank you PHO.' Wasn't it good when liberty of expression could be used to further one's own paramilitary agenda?

"We got out ahead of this one and that's been a double edged sword. The major news networks were on our side and most people heard our version of events first. However, because we were so on the spot with it a lot of people are also looking at us with a bit of suspicion. Political partisanship is also playing a part of this and in the end, be ready for some hostility from the general populace."

'Well of course they are hostile.' Calvert wanted to growl out at the redundant speech.

People were angry at Flask, no doubt, but because the Mayor was so embattled and making her punishment a major part of his platform at least a third of the city was now firmly opposed to the way the girl was being treated.

Not to mention how his political adversaries were using Flask as an example of the Mayor's bad administration. Basically attributing to him the blame of the attack.

One of which was firmly in Coil's pockets.

But they didn't need to know that. 

Taking a swallow of water, the man cleared his throat and wiped his forehead before continuing.

"The Empire's narrative is causing us problems too. They've come out hard and fast and are playing on old racial and class based divisions. They're also seeing some crossover into the general populace with about fifteen percent of the city, based on estimated numbers of gang membership and social media posts, supporting their position to some degree. Unfortunately, it's likely that Empire affiliates will be particularly hostile."

An annoyance his people would need to be ready for. The Empire had the best behaved boot lickers. Normally, at least. Maybe it was time to crack the whip, show them who was really in charge around here.

"Considering the growth of the gangs, the political tone of this issue, and how many people see this as a terrorist attack, we _need_ to be strong, apolitical, and responsive to their concerns. Be careful out there, be calm, and be honest. Thank you for your time."

Silent, stern, and unflinching no one at the table said anything. Calvert would have laughed if the others wouldn't have called him crazy. Things were going to get so much worse for them and very, _very_ soon too.

"Dr. Merlbourne. The medical situation with the Wards."

"All of them have passed contamination screening." Old, painfully thin, and with a sharp nose the head of the medical department's nasally voice was thankfully to the point.

"None of them were found to have contaminants from either Flask or their injuries and the only lingering issues are related to exhaustion and mental damage that Dr. Valdez is better suited to speak on. Panacea, as always, is a godsend. I would like to mention that Vista's neck was nearly snapped and Shadow Stalker's spine was in fourteen separate parts. Flask is seemingly quite capable of inflicting lethal damage should she have a mind to."

Not one of the commanders sat easily with that knowledge. While her maximum strength test was inconclusive, they were all fully aware of how she was functionally immune to ballistic weaponry. It was no fun to fight something you couldn't kill and was all too eager to kill you. Of course, as Merlbourne simply stopped talking Valdez coughed and stood up. The broad, squat hispanic man's moustache bristled violently as he huffed.

"I would like to begin my statement by saying that these children need time to rest and recover."

Piggot sighed.

"All such requests must be submitted in triplicate Valdez. You know this."

"They're already on your desk mam."

The squat, stern faced man stared down at the squat, stern faced woman. Valdez broke first.

"Director…." His voice was low. "I'm doing triage. To put it bluntly, the Wards aren't in a good way." He motioned the papers, which Piggot leafed through after a tense second.

Words such as 'in need of treatment' and 'unstable', featured distressingly often. Much to her chagrin

"I'd say Gallant is healthiest, merely willing to risk his own life for others, rather compulsively, and shows zero regard for his own well being. Additionally, he tolerates an extremely stressful relationship with Glory Girl because he feels obligated to. Browbeat, Kid Win, and Clockblocker all show various signs of depression, paranoia, and a-social disorders. They're more soldiers than children, with even Clockblocker admitting to a routine of double checking multiple methods for potential intruders in his father's hospital room.

Valdez paused and sighed, and Calvert could see why. Just looking at the small mound of notes he had with him was… impressive.

"Browbeat no longer used his civilian name unless forced. Aegis felt an extreme amount of pressure, that has seen grown men snap, and desires to prove himself to the point he's sustained no less than six injuries related to training. His combat records read like a suicidal soldier's wet dream. " 

That one actually struck home a little. He'd lost more than one man to their pistol and a bottle of cheap whiskey. Fortunately, it only tickled a little.

"And Diamondhead. She was an entire can of worms by herself. With a mixture of PTSD, survivor's guilt, and the wonderful issues all teenagers face. Hormones, peer pressure, social groups. All of that exacerbated by the fact she still flinches when she see an asian man. Fortunately, our city is… enlightened enough to understand that's she's not racist, just traumatized."

Fair enough. Coil might torture people. He might even torture them for fun. But forced prostitution, gang rape, and sexual slavery was a bit beyond what he considered tasteful.

"Vista is more mask than person, now. Only sleeping at home once or twice a week. And Shadow Stalker, by God, she's got enough problems I'd slap her with a Section Eight if I could. And that was before the chronic night terrors and panic attacks."

Calvert managed to hide a wince. Barely.

He was very familiar with the wonderful world of nightmares and imaginary demons.

Of course. That's as far as his sympathy went for the troublesome Ward. She'd earned her cross picking a fight with a child in a world where children could become angry gods.

"These _children_ are also recuperating from the fact they were all thrashed in combat by a single unknown cape. _They_ _are not fit for duty_!"

Once the psychologist finished his rant, Piggot simply nodded.

"Understood. Thank you doctor. As it stands, the Wards will be assigned to the Boardwalk, the area between the two ferry stations, and the secure areas of the commercial district and downtown. Shadow Stalker is to be kept out of areas of known E88 activity and Diamondhead is to be kept out of areas with a high population of asian individuals. This will allow us to deploy the rest of the assets appropriately"

Valdez deflated and sat down, defeated. He knew Piggot wouldn't budge, no matter how much of a tantrum he threw. In the end, he was wrong. He hadn't been a doctor for a long, long time. Thomas almost felt a shred of pity.

"Calvert, you and Miss Militia will be on standby downtown. I want you to have a SRT prepped twenty four seven. Work out the schedule, but everyone's pulling over time until this is over." She turned to the other commanders. "Thomas, Diaz, you'll be taking the First and the Second north. The First have the Trainyard and the ABB. You're on suppression detail. Hit the ground running. Diaz, you and yours have the Merchants, the Market, and the Boat Graveyard. Flush out any problems before they become _our_ problems."

She paused, shuffling through a pile of papers Calvert hadn't noticed before.

"Norwood, Phineas, Thornley you're taking the Third, Fourth, and Fifth south. The Empire is an active threat, force them underground. I _will not_ have race riots in my city. Baxter, you and the Sixth division are to remain at ENE and will act as a mobile reserve. We'll have air support on standby at the Rig and capes will be deployed as needed. I've spoken with BPD and they'll be providing uniformed and plain clothes support. Unfortunately, the Governor has not deigned to respond to my request for National Guard assets. Updated threat assessments on all known factions, capes, and potential civil threats will be sent to you after this is over. Questions, comments, ideas?"

"Uh, yes mam. Are we dealing with damaged goods here? Do we need to keep an eye on these kids?" It was… Diaz, Calvert noticed. "Because if we have to rely on them in a combat situation, are we gonna have to worry about them snapping?"

Surprisingly, Calvert liked him. He was a family man, three kids, a beautiful wife, all of them devout Catholics. But he was the kind of guy who could kiss you on the cheek and then put a bullet in your head the next moment. A dyed in the wool sociopath. Luckily, he'd decided he believed in God and that being a good Catholic was important too. Thomas could relate.

Though he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through his head either.

Nothing personal, of course. 

"All parahumans are damaged in some way. It's part of the process of getting their powers." He snorted at the official line Valdez spouted off. "But… yes. I think we need to pay particular attention to them if things start going well. None of them will break and run, but they might very well… engage in the use of excessive force."

Most of the commanders shrugged, Valdez simply nodded. Sure, they were unempathetic bastards but everyone knew the troopers were basically red shirts if things got serious. You didn't last that long in the job without the ability to just not give a fuck.

Calvert actually took a moment to think. Piggot always ended her briefings with those same three words. Even more importantly, she actually considered her subordinates advice. This could be an opportunity to move ahead with his own plans and remove a few variables.

"Yes mam, I do." She nodded her goahead. "The Merchants are a universally hated group. And the local police are finally deciding who to stand with. Let's use this. I'll take two teams to support Diaz while you lean on the locals to set up busts. We all know there's more than one informant stupid enough to give us Skidmark, Squealer, and Mush. Gutting the Merchants would be the easiest way to reduce the overall threat level of the city. Not to mention, it'd hardly cause a power vacuum. All in all, it'll hurt. But cut once, cut deep."

The other commanders nodded and murmured their assent. They were eager for blood and he was the senior commander here. Not to mention _no one_ liked the Merchants. Even had to admit he disliked them more than even the Empire.

'Disgusting parasites.'

"Very well. Calvert, Diaz, we'll discuss the operation in greater detail later. For now, if there's no other suggestions?" No one said anything and Piggot stood up. "Then you're dismissed."

"Yes mam!" The commanders snapped off a salute while the civilians simply climbed to their feet. Walking out, Calvert turned left and right down the hallway.

He had work to do.

The timeline split.

-

While the first Thomas Calver went home and had a well deserved night of rest, the other, more important version of him donned the suit and mask he was oh so fond of and took one of his selected safe routes to his closest 'off hours' workplace.

It was time for Coil to come out for the night.

While the day had been, all in all, spent reviewing information he already had been aware of. There was no such thing as wasted preparations in his humble opinion. It was one thing to know how the playfield was going to be set. And another entirely to get a peek inside your opponent's head.

Canary was well on her way to the Rig, likely to arrive tomorrow afternoon if the good judge saw fit to rush along his decision.

Which he most assuredly would.

Flask, of course, remained in custody waiting for her own railroaded trial. Hilariously, it was mostly her father's fault at this point than anything else. Daniel Hebert was making her case an _issue_, he was dragging the PRT into the trenches and telling the darling of the Federal Government to go fuck itself. The only thing more dangerous he could have done was to have attacked the IRS.

And having commies on Hebert's side, and it only took one, in a city that sometimes remembered Nazis were national socialists didn't look good either.

Of course, having some of his contacts scour the internet for evidence of the girl's cruel treatment was paramount. It wouldn't do for his plans to be ruined by a good Samaritan suddenly growing a spine and deciding to upload a video.

That would be his, or at least his proxy's, role in this story.

Now… it was time to see how his other pieces were moving.

First and foremost, his hardworking 'Bishop'. So overworked yet continually trying to undermine his authority in a bid to escape his rather profitable, if not extremely dangerous, employment.

Really, didn't the girl know that chess pieces couldn't defect?

Only be sacrificed when the time was right.

The Undersiders were quickly becoming one of his favorite pet projects. A group of parahumans he could contact at any time to run interference at any needed juncture so long as he could keep them from acting out.

Frankly, he was basically their babysitter and without his constant over sight they'd be dead, in jail, or, in Sarah's case, probably worse. None of them understood just how screwed they were. Being in his employ was a boon they should treasure.

Of course, having a collection of troubled youths under his thumb meant that he could not allow them to dawdle with their free time. Rather, he put them to work occasionally, and kept them away from his major operations.

Perhaps the day would come where he would allow them to become his full time enforcers, but only after certain conditions were met.

One which was currently sitting idly inside the Rig maximum security cell block.

The 'Queen'. His most important piece wasn't his. Not yet. But he had already started making great strides towards acquiring her services.

And to think he owed that spectacular asset to a spiteful girl with anger issues.

Let it be known that Sophia Hess had made herself useful for once in her red taped life. Well…twice if he had any saying in future developments.

And he most certainly would.

The 'Rook' of course, was kept at arm's length, yet close enough to be called upon should he had need of a clean sweep of the board. The Travelers were eager to work under him after he injected poor Noelle with a small sample of Flask's collected residue.

Of course, he used its temporary effect to sell it as a 'prototype' cure.

They didn't need to know where he'd gotten it from.

Then, of course, there was his 'Knight'.

The last he'd heard of Faultline's Crew they had been cleaning out a small drug ring at the behest of one of Coil's associates. Of course, the man had been paid a hefty sum in order to put forth the job, and the group would be staying at the edge of his territory for the foreseeable future as a natural barrier against his equally dangerous neighbors.

He would need the added safety during the coming weeks.

Daniel Hebert fighting tooth and nail for his daughter's freedom wasn't a surprise.

Him kicking each and every hornet's nest in Brockton and beyond surely was. A mark of resourcefulness if not downright vicious creativity. Giving the PRT a proverbial black eye by going on the offensive rather than remaining passive and hoping for the best.

Coil could approve of him from a professional standpoint, if not a personal one.

Goading the Mayor into starting a witch hunt for Flask hadn't been difficult, but to keep the man from backtracking like a scaredy cat was taking a great deal of effort. His contacts at the man's office notified him of the increasing tensions within the man's family.

Apparently it was bad form to try and throw someone else's daughter into the Birdcage.

Go figure. 

Still, political inertia was on his side for once. Party politics was involved and both the DNC and RNC had tipped their hands. No matter which one won he'd come out on top, simply because the court system was already getting attacked too. And judges, even more than cops, closed ranks when threatened.

He'd make sure to send Mr. Mcartney a gift basket. Would he prefer cheeses or wine?

Hmm… maybe cheeses and wine? The poor man was playing his role simply perfectly. Just like Piggot he was a former PRT operative. And just like her he'd lost his entire squad to a cape. And most _importantly_ he most certainly did _not_ like them either.

The fact Paige Mcabee was being held at the same facility had inextricably linked the trials in the public's mind. Soon the two emotionally damaged, isolated, and victimized women would be in close proximity. They'd speak, bond, and he'd have his leverage. Especially when it was his assets that would ensure Hebert's freedom.

Unfortunately, this was… the most dangerous point in the Plan. And even his Friend couldn't narrow the odds enough, at least not in a plan that could be feasibly executed within his lifetime, to guarantee success.

"Decisions, decisions. What ever shall I do?" He steepled his fingers. "Take the safe route and try to manipulate Hebert? I lose Mcabee but I face a minimal risk of exposure and an excellent in road to convince her to… walk a grey line. After that, I reveal a few more major scandals in the PRT, reveal my identity, and convince her to go "undercover" in the Wards, along with my own other little pieces sliding in over time, and I've my own personal army. Piggot is removed from power, that idiot Tagg would get himself killed or fired inside of a week, and then I step in. Providing the leadership and will power to stabilize the city."

The image wasn't unpleasant.

Total control over ENE, contacts across the East Coast, enough political backing to insulate him from any challengers, and the raw muscle to throw back even the SH9. He sighed.

"But it's not enough." As much as he _hated_ risks, he loved power more. "I'll need to move quickly. There might only be five or so minutes to convince her to save Canary. A few convenient acts of sabotage means I'll need to burn a few moles. But… there's still a sixty percent chance of total success. And a twenty eight percent chance I get shot. But… that might just be enough. I get a powerful Master and a powerful Trump, both are totally indebted to Calvert and Coil and I should be able to pull the operation with Ms. Alcott."

He chuckled. The political scandal would be enormous. And he'd already seen Hebert once in person and it was his men that escorted her around the base. It would not be… entirely unfeasible for her to bring Dinah to him. Saving the Mayor's daughter would be the boon he needed to ensure his rising star never dimmed. That it would bind Hebert to him made this option even more attractive.

"I don't need total possession to utterly own an asset either…." Three for the price of a small risk he'd die. "But I wouldn't lose much, considering my own little gift. I'm a known hardliner on _gangs_ but carefully neutral on _capes_. This… could be what seals my political reputation."

This time it was a sigh.

"So many details Accord, but so much you left up to me! I suppose I could think this over after I've had a bit of 'stress relief'."

Reaching under his desk, he pulled out a pair of thick rubber gloves.

The kind one expected to see during surgery.

They fit him, ironically, like a glove, with the snap of the rubber bringing out a small and twisted thrill from his chest, which did not dim as he stood up and walked to the room adjacent to his own office.

There was always a certain amount of satisfaction to be gained from doing one's own dirty laundry.

He pushed the door open, and with a flash of cold satisfaction, surveyed the mercenary slash turn coat strapped to the metal table. Really, what a waste of military training and money. Well, at the very least he would serve this purpose.

"Good evening, Mr. Livinston. My apologies for keeping you waiting. I was… tied down by a previous commitment. I am sure you understand."

He picked up his tool for the night from a small tray next to the door.

A scalpel. Nothing exotic or exaggerated. He would be taking his time with this one, after all.

"Now then, Mr. Livinston, shall we begin with your appointment? I would very much like to know who was paying you, for starters." He chuckled.

This part of the job would never get old.


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: Greetings loyal readers. all 80+ of you at the time this piece of literary goodness has gone online. Its that time of the week again where we bring to you the next installment of Taylor's Survival Guide to Avoiding the Life Sentence. Also known as Flask.**

**AtW: I hope the humor is on point, the angst isn't **_**too**_** angsty, and, unfortunately, have a warning for you guys. A lot of our reviewers have pointed out small errors we've made, especially in the last chapter, and so we'll be going through and editing our existing chapters before posting chapter 6. Don't worry though, we'll begin working on that… tomorrow?**

**CW: If I can tear myself away from F/GO, sure!**

**AtW: We'll try. That said, go ahead and let us know what you're looking forward to in this story. We have the first arc planned out, but everything else is flexible right now outside of a few big points. So submit your feedback and you might even affect the final outcome!**

**CW: So, sit back, enjoy the ride, and get reading! Reviews give us life!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Alliances, Deals, Friendship**

* * *

Danny Hebert liked to believe himself a reasonable man. Despite what others would like to say about his temper he was completely capable of reigning himself in when needed. instead of blowing his top everytime someone so much as breathed his way.

He just happened to have well defined limits.

As a man.

As a father.

As a professional.

Seeing others callously cross the line in front of him had always been a sure fire way to get his temper going. And though he'd gotten better at it over the years he would always remember the trouble he went through when he was younger.

One thing he'd never done was get angry in front of his daughter. Not _really_. He and Annette had spoken about his temper, when she was pregnant, and he'd promise he'd get it under control. And now that promise was broken.

Honestly, Danny didn't think she'd mind.

In fact, he thought she would find his actions to be mild at best. She had always been more of a firebrand than he. And this was probably the one situation where she'd be more out of control than he could ever imagine.

More than anything else, it had been that passion that attracted him to her.

That strength of heart coupled with a ferocity strong enough to stand up to all others and demand _they_ move aside. Just thinking about it was enough to make his heart clench in muted agony, a sting at the reminder of what he had lost.

'Don't dwell on it.' He grit his teeth in discomfort.

Thinking too much about his wife hurt.

But in a good way.

Kept him centered, rooted in the present. The two things which kept him going these days were the memories he had of Annette and the fact that he still had Taylor.

And wasn't that just another can of worms.

He honestly should have seen it. The bullying, her growing apart from Emma, her slipping grades and hunched shoulders. It felt like such a long time since he'd seen his baby girl stand proud and happy. And most of that was admittedly his own fault.

Which was why he couldn't afford to mess up anymore.

'You're one fuck past being a shit dad, but you can suck it up and be there now.' So, taking one last deep breath, Daniel Hebert opened the door in front of him and stepped in.

"Hello Danny." The woman in the very, _very_ expensive suit and sitting at a glass art deco desk in the wall to wall real wood paneled office gave him the same condescending smirk she had for four years.

"Elizabeth."

Her smirk grew even wider. Knowing what was about to happen, Danny just rubbed the bridge of his nose. Stretching like a cat, the tall, athletic blonde woman climbed to her feet, just so just so accidentally highlighting her curves. Wearing something he knew cost at least five figures, and he thought was terrible, but was probably the current must have fashion of the month she looked far, far too smug for his eye not to twitch. When she strutted over to him, hips swinging suggestively to the side, and stepped just close enough that he could see down her blouse if he looked he almost chuckled. When she ran her hand up his chest he actually did snort.

Because it tickled.

"_My daughter_ is in trouble, you're very pretty, we're not in college anymore, and Annette chose me." Bringing his hand up to eye level, he wiggled his ring finger. The same gold band his wife had given him glinting. "So did you invite me here just to fuck with me, or are you actually willing to help?"

Elizabeth's smirk became a snarl and her previously questing fingers became very… angry. Spinning with a huff she marched back over to her desk, and plopped down.

"Why Anny chose _you_, I'll never know. You clearly weren't fit to be a sperm donor, never mind a father." Her snarl immediately dropped, becoming actually enthused and excited.. "But I'm always willing to help _her_ daughter. The last picture I have was from two years ago and cute little Taylor was just the most adorable thing I've ever seen!"

That was another part that made the situation hurt even more.

The fact that his daughter would never look the same again. At least not until she learned to control what it was that were her powers and somehow found a way to look like herself again. If she even wanted to. He knew that she had a few issues with self image, but had mostly chalked it up to normal teenage struggles, God knows he'd had them.

'Damn my stubborn fool self for not noticing sooner.'

A sharp whistle filled the air.

"Over here boy." Deborah snapped her fingers, long manicured fingers pointing at him. "I know you're barely literate and have the attention span of a goldfish but I thought my tits would have at least kept you looking at me."

"I'm married."

'Oops. Didn't even mean to say that.' Her face was back to the snarl. And what had previously looked like a like a work of art was contorted in anger once more.

'That one just slipped out.' He snorted. 'Wish I'd done that on purpose.'

He totally would have, if this woman wasn't one of his best chances at giving Taylor a fighting chance against the witch hunt waiting for her back in Brockton.

So he would smile, nod, deal with his dead wife's psychotic ex and then go drink something.

Easy.

"So, Taylor. The prosecutor is a man, the judge is an old white man, I think the guy who arrested her was an older white guy, and it was a result of racial animus in an impoverished school." He swallowed his pride. "She's Annette's daughter too. Please. I'm begging you."

She cut her eyes at him. Bowing his head, he clenched his fists.

Deep breaths. He took deep breaths.

"I… you were right. I'm not a good father, I wasn't a good husband. I'm a fuck up and I need your help to make it right."

A loud sigh was his answer.

"I'd tell you to go on, but you can't even beg properly." She gave him a beatific smile. "But you're a man, so I won't hold that against you. Can you afford my retainer?"

He opened his mouth and she interrupted.

"Of course you can't, not dressed like that. Normally, it's fifty five hundred dollars just to speak to me. For a case like this we'd be… talking about nine hundred? That's nine hundred grand, assuming I put in about four, maybe four hundred and twenty hours into this, personally. My assistants would handle the grunt work, that's what I pay them for. But I'd expect at least a minimum of four hundred hours of personal labor. I won't even waste my breath asking if you could afford it, even if you sold your house."

Elizabeth tapped her chin and hummed to herself.

"But I've gotten ninety nine victories at trial, and everyone involved is a man, you can't trust one not to fuck up something important, and Taylor is cute… so I'll take the case." She narrowed her eyes. "Pro bono. But you _owe me Danny_."

He shrugged.

"Ok."

She blinked.

"What do you mean 'ok'!? I've finally got one over you, you son of a bitch! After you stole Annette from me all those years ago I've finally got you! And all you say is… ok."

There were no screams, she didn't need to. The pure venom in her voice could have melted through steel. And he just shrugged.

"My daughter needs help. You're a viper. And you love Annette enough to help her kid."

The woman huffed, falling back into her chair. Picking up her desk phone, she hit a speed dial and ignored Danny as she sorted out a few details.

"Jane, bring me the Hebert case. And tell Maurice he has the Harlem case. And if he screws it up, I'll have his balls in a vice." When Danny rose an eyebrow, she shrugged. "He's a black gay man. It looks good for the magazines."

Disgust, amusement, and simple annoyance warred inside of hum. When the sleek, black steel door opened he slightly wondered what the scene looked like to the cute twenty something he knew Elizabeth must be fucking.

'Secretary my ass.'

If he remembered anything, it was that his wife's ex got around like the clap she'd dodged for decades. That the poor girl looked so much like Annette just made the whole damn thing creepy.

'Still, this freaking couch is worth more than the truck I drove here in.' Resting his face in his hands, a glimmer of relief actually filled his heart. He'd been on the phone non stop for the past thirty six hours, only catching four hours of sleep at his office, and called every single person and organization that Google had said might want to help his daughter.

From his blood shot eyes to the coffee stains on his unwashed shirt, he looked the picture of a rumpled hair crack addict about to freak or pass out. And this narcissistic, nearly sociopathic woman had been the most brutal, savage, outright career ruining lawyer that had responded to his pleas.

Who was presently flirting with the near clone of his dead wife in front of him….

'She messes with Taylor, I'll shoot her.' Danny nodded to himself.

That was a good plan. His eyes, circled with such deep bags he looked like he'd been punched, fluttered. And it was his snores that told the two women he really couldn't care less what they thought about him.

"Taylor…."

So long as she had a fighting chance, he was happy.

* * *

Throughout her life, Hannah Roastami had been many things. Seen many things.

Many of them unpleasant. Too many in fact.

Each and every one remained with her, too. Her memory was perfect, even smells and sensations were etched indelibly into her mind. She didn't have to sleep. And she never did. Even when she'd slept with others, a lover or just a friend staying with her for the night, she always woke up. Her dreams were gone and instead it was always, always, _always_ a collection of her memories.

Too few of them were pleasant to ever consider wanting to risk it.

Back when she was a Ward, she'd remember her time in what had been Syria, before the Middle East had _totally_ degenerated. The mine fields, her friends being raped, gunning down civilians. They were all up there. Luckily for her, she had been a girl and the group that owned her were mostly Afghani.

"Women are for bearing children, boys are for pleasure."

She had never been a "dancing boy". A small mercy, in her opinion at least.

Not that it had helped. Her first time had been just as wonderfully traumatic. Fumbling and awkward, like everyone, had become raw, undiluted revulsion. She'd fallen asleep in his arms and woken up when her mind had shown her, her own first time with every rape she'd ever seen superimposed on it.

Months of therapy had been a small price to learn how to compartmentalize _that_. And that is what she had learned how to do. Compartmentalize. Every little problem and every big problem had to be processed, accepted, and understood. Years of practice he made it easier, even if it wasn't _easy_.

Was it any wonder she couldn't just accept seeing the Wards, _her_ Wards tossed about like that?

"Hana? You there?"

A voice suddenly nudged her out of her reverie.

Velocity.

Blinking twice, she responded.

"Of course. I'm always here."

Her mask hid most of her face, though the patch of skin around her eyes crinkling signified a small encouraging smile. Something her teammates were well accustomed to, even if they didn't always believe her.

Fortunately, the speedster decided not to pry.

"Uh huh. If you say so. And your answer?"

She flipped through a few minutes worth of memories in a second.

"I vote for the movies. It'll be easiest to hide the fact this group of kids has the exact number and probable ethnic makeup of the Wards in a more public setting like that. Especially if their actual parents drop them off."

Velocity chuckled.

"I saw you thinking about that one. But good answer."

Militia shrugged.

"The benefits of a perfect memory."

It was either the movies or an amusement park, though Assault's suggestion was much more costly and would have required a much more stressful management of personnel. Teenagers were prone to going off the script whenever it suited them, and chaperoning them amidst so many visiting families would have been a nightmare.

She half thought that was why Colin had supported it. Partly to punish Piggot's latest plan and partly to show the Wards they really, _really_ did care. He might have had trouble showing it, and he might have pushed more than a little too hard, but the man did his best for all of his subordinates. When he didn't forget they weren't all as utterly mission focused as he was, of course.

Truthfully, had it not been the time constraints, she would have volunteered to take them on a road trip herself. Though that would have been an even bigger nightmare to handle, especially given the tension slowly building in Brockton Bay. As it was, it had taken no less than four different attempts to clear the teenagers for a mere forty eight hours of leave.

And the restrictions put in place had all but neutered most of their plans for relaxation.

With Canary's arrival and her upcoming trial, all the problems which had been building up out West had been transferred overnight to Brockton. According to their intel, many of the young woman's advocates were travelling over to the East Coast to show their support for her cause.

It had put an unnecessary burden on top of their latest crisis, and deeply affected their morale.

Hence why the Protectorate heroes had decided to throw this small meeting slash get together. They had all been under a ton of pressure as of late, so Velocity had roped Dauntless and Battery into making it happen.

One of their larger conference rooms had been repurposed into a pseudo salon for the party.  
Desks lined both sides of the room, holding a wide assortment of drinks and food. Everyone, of course had seen fit to bring something. Hannah noted with satisfaction that her tray of cookies was already halfway eaten.

While the party's current favorite seemed to be the jumbo sized potato chips Colin had somehow snuck through security.

Most likely on Dragon's advice. Everyone had a bet placed on when they'd actually get together. And then on when Dragon would explain what that actually meant.

She respected Armsmaster, but she knew exactly how socially awkward he could be.

Still, today was a rarity. All of the heroic capes in the city, sans the BBB, were here together.

"Alright, everyone, listen up!" Dauntless called out over the low rumble of the capes chatting with each other. "We actually do have some planning to go through. Wards issues aside, Armsmaster wants to go through the strategy for the coming weeks. Until Canary's trial is over, right?"

The blue armored man nodded, walking to the head of the room.

"Correct. As Dauntless mentioned, we believe the highest likelihood for serious civil unrest is when the verdict of Canary's trial is released. A gag order is reportedly being discussed, but so too are pre-emptive challenges to any potential order. And seeing how it is extremely likely that not only will she be convicted, but that she'll also be sentenced to Bauhman… I think I speak for all of us when I say the response to that will be extremely unpleasant."

Hannah heard a faint snort of derision to her left.

Assault.

Even with half of his face covered, she could make out the beginnings of an ugly scowl, only kept back in the presence of his wife. Of course, it was no secret that the former rogue had been silently protesting their participation in Canary's trial and its proceedings.

Something further aggravated by the situation with Taylor Hebert.

Or rather, Flask.

And wasn't that a name that had been plaguing her thoughts as of the past few days.

It was no secret that Militia held a measure of… professional distance from the recently triggered cape. She'd been driven by her protective instincts to distrust the young woman, and her responsibilities as the leader of the Wards demanded she seek recompense for what happened during the Winslow Incident. The bruises around Missy's neck were still there, just waiting for her to think about them.

In her mind, at least.

As were the images of the normally indestructible Emma being manhandled and of Sophia being dragged through rows of dented metal.

She had watched whatever footage they had of the incident to commit it to memory.

However, that in no way excused her unprofessional, emotionally driven, actions. And, knowing she needed to let go of her grudge against a teenage girl, she distanced herself from the situation.

Until the day of the girl's power testing arrived.

Watching someone literally melt into nothing was… significantly unpleasant.

More so was to watch as that very same puddled manifested into a living thing, a nightmare come to life. Though the girl seemed as frightened if not more so than them since she fainted soon afterwards.

That Militia had instinctively manifested a handgun when she heard the girl's terrified screech opened way too many questions she wasn't ready to contemplate at the moment.

"You're drifting off again."

Hana just snorted.

"Challenger just agreed to stay on until all this died down, Dauntless is actually eager, and Battery is having to keep Assault from doing more than sulk." She paused. "And I think she just threatened him with… anal? Oh. Well then."

The speedster choked on his coffee, drawing the attention of the whole room to the pair. Hana just smiled and smacked him on the back.

Velocity flipped her off once the rest of the capes looked away.

"Screw you, Hana." He took a few more hacking coughs. "Made me swallow my coffee. It was hot, too."

She rolled her eyes.

"Need a bottle of milk to make it better? I'm sure we can find one your size."

His unamused stare was like sweet nectar to her. All too easy.

"Still, think the guy might try something. He used to be a jailbreaker no? This ought to be opening some old scars for him."

"I'm relatively sure he never dropped the soap." This time Velocity actually glared at her. "No. I don't think he'll 'try' anything. But if something does go down… so long as no one is hurt, I do think he might look the other way."

Worrying her lip, she chose her next words _extremely_ carefully.

"And if _something_ did happen, maybe Canary makes a break for it and is being purely non lethal, then hypothetically it might happen on an off day for me."

Swoyer grunted.

"Do you know who I based my costume off of?"

Hana shook her head.

"The Flash. From Aleph. He was a Mover too. Way above my grade, of course. But he was… the heart and soul of his team. I chose him because he inspired me too. And I thought that if I wore his colors, maybe I'd have a bit of his heart."

He sighed.

"I just play cops and robbers with nazis and grab ass with asian nazis. And the only people we seem to actually take down are the scared kids. So maybe, assuming no one gets hurt, I have an off day too."

_A pink mass writing in pain as her taser sunk into it._

_The inhuman screech of a malformed facsimile of a human._

'Scared indeed.' Hannah sighed.

"So, it's time we actually get down to brass tacks. Armsmaster, who has what patrol routes and who's working with the SRT?"

Miss Militia didn't need to be sitting in the front row to know Dauntless was starting to annoy Armsmaster. So, knowing she needed to move things along and she'd spent too much time chatting, she started towards the front of the room. And if she gave Robin a discrete shoulder bump along the way, well, no one else would notice.

"I am. Piggot specifically wants us ready to hit the Merchants ASAP. The BPD is going all in and we'll be making a big bust, a show of force if you will. Though, I do imagine there will be at least a few others on standby. Speaking of, have Sere and Dovetail considered our offers?"

This time it was Challenger who spoke, axe in one hand and rifle in the other but otherwise out of costume.

"Yes and no. I spoke with them both, right after we took down Flask, and they agreed to join. But they're still uncomfortable with how political the situation has gotten. They'll be providing support as affiliates, but won't be officially joining until after its all over."

"Better that, than nothing." Battery cleared her throat. "And speaking of new capes, what's the shake down on Flask's power testing? Do we have provisional ratings?"

Armsmaster took this question.

"At the moment, we are classifying her as a Changer seven. After conducting a short round of tests, as well as an in depth analysis of her body composition, Dragon and I concluded that Flask is not so much a Breaker with the capability to become liquid so much as a wholly functional being composed of individual cells."

"In english, please." Velocity deadpanned.

"It means that she is not a single being so much as countless, integrated components making up a greater whole. We've examined some of those cells and they aren't all that _visibly_ different from those you would find in the human body, only undifferentiated to an astounding degree."

There was a beat of silence as the other heroes absorbed the information.

"So what you're saying is… that Flask is composed of advanced stem cells?"

"No." Armsmaster shook his head. "Not only is that a gross oversimplification, it is fundamentally incorrect. However… if that is what's needed to understand then think of it that way. I do stress, however, that it is more of a case of her body consisting of a substance utterly alien to human physiology, yet also serving as a distributed brain maintaining a human consciousness. In short, every part of her is equally her brain, organs, muscles, and skin. And that's why she was capable of splitting her mass at Winslow."

"And how she was capable of making organs like eyes wholesale. She just assigned that part of her body that function and it changed in order to perform it."

Armsmaster nodded, Velocity's explanation making plenty of sense and not offending his belief in the rigor of using aggressively painful english.

"But still." Battery cut in. "That doesn't explain how the other part of her powers work. How does she negate other powers?"

They all knew that's what made the top brass of the PRT equally fascinated with and terrified of the young parahuman. Had she just been a pile of alien material capable of mimicking human shape, they wouldn't have blinked. But as she was a Trump, suddenly you had a small scale civil war happening amongst the brass.

Some, whom shall go unnamed, thought that made Flask too much of a danger and decided to push for the girl's sentencing to the Birdcage. The current political climate seemed to be reacting towards any form of parahuman threat, no matter how big or small, with an obscenely big stick and no carrot in sight.

The other, more moderate side of the administration saw the young parahuman as an opportunity.

A young cape with a flexible and useful power who was also seemingly immune to most parahuman abilities? It wasn't an understatement that some where figuratively, and a few literally, drooling at the thought.

"For now, we believe the range of her Trump power seems to be limited to only what she's in direct contact with. It's why Blasters like Gallant could not affect her, as well as why she was capable of rendering Glory Girl and Diamond Dust susceptible to damage. In short, Changer seven, Trump/Striker four, Brute four, Mover two. The ratings are provisional but her body is fully capable of an unknown range of transformations. Engage from a distance, do not rely on powers, and utilize foam grenades."

The group muttered amongst themselves, discussing what they'd heard, before largely settling down.

"So basically, don't get close and don't let her touch us?"

Armsmaster nodded.

"Tinkertech is effective, but obviously we can not arm everyone with it. My request to have a number of laser rifles transferred to our custody was denied, though Miss Militia was cleared to receive two energy based weapons. Kid Win and I will be collaborating over the coming weeks to ensure that in the potential event of further combat with Flask we will be able to contain her with minimal damage to both her person and ourselves. At this time, that is all I have to say officially on the topic."

Miss Militia caught his eye, tilting her head, and silently asking permission. His lips tightened, but he Colin didn't say anything. Knowing this was going to be all she was going to get, Hana spoke up.

"A preliminary psych report has also been submitted. Tentatively, she has been diagnosed with mild claustrophobia and a number of other, relatively minor, issues relating to depression, anxiety, and long term bullying. If you do have to engage her, try not to lock her in any small spaces or verbally engage her. Obviously, this is difficult, but she collapsed into a puddle during testing in response to attempting to assume a human form. We don't want to risk a second trigger. Especially since her current powers are still unknown."

This time every single person in that room smothered a flinch. Assault licked his lips.

"How… how likely is that? How much of a bomb are we dealing with?"

Hana shrugged.

"We don't know. It could be normal depression, it could be signs of a major psychological issue. What happened at the school might have been a psychotic break. We just don't know."

Challenger slammed the but of her rifle into the ground.

"Are you saying we need to use kid gloves when dealing with her? She tore through the Wards and knocked Velocity out."

The yellow clad speedster snorted.

"She knocked me on my ass because I clotheslined myself on her arm going for a lock. And Militia isn't saying go easy. Just be aware that if you push her hard enough we might have an entirely detached Trump on her hands that can crush bones like twigs."

Frowning, the woman relaxed into her chair and conceded the point.

"All right then. Anything else?"

Armsmaster brought a hand to his ear.

"Canary's transport has just arrived. We'll be needed for Master/Stranger briefings in thirty. Her security detail will be switching shifts regularly, but we are expected to keep constant watch. At least one of us must be on site at all times until the day of her trial."

Assault shot him a sour look.

"I don't like this, Colin."

The man grimaced.

"Me neither."

* * *

The floor was cold.

Or maybe that was just Taylor.

She'd been laying motionless in the middle of her 'room' for a while now, not moving or even twitching since she woke up. She wasn't tired. She wasn't hungry. She wasn't even bored.

No.

She was a monster.

Or at least that's what she looked like now.

Yesterday's testing had been grueling in many ways. It had to be, as she'd been trying to find out the limits of her powers while making nice with the PRT heroes. It would have definitely looked good on her resume if they said she had cooperated with their tests and been a model prisoner.

And by the naked golden man didn't that sound bad.

Honestly, it was her fault for expecting more. Life had taught her plenty recently. It was shit, brutal, and would keep kicking you in the teeth until you just gave in and took it.

Taylor… had told herself she'd be able to hug her dad. Maybe even speak with Emma or call Kurt and Lacey or just go out in public, testify in her own defense. All she had to do was look like a human. Just for a second.

Yet… would they even _look_ at her now?

Look at that… that… _thing_ in the mirror?

She wasn't sure anymore.

And that terrified her.

That didn't mean it wasn't her fault though. She got her hopes up. And that meant she completely disregarded the world she was living in.

Her mass burbled in full body displeasure.

Maybe it was better this way. It's not like she would ever look like a normal human again, not to mention she had outed herself as a cape before the entirety of Winslow. It wouldn't take much to convince a judge that she was too dangerous to keep around.

That the Cage would be a far better option.

What else did she have to lose? Her life as a normal human was done, her friendship with Emma likely would never be the same. And now she was stuck looking like a monster. Was it even worth trying to avoid prison?

'I did attack the wards, after all. And maybe Militia had a point.'

Everyone would be better off without….

_I love you, little owl._

A sob wracked through her body.

Dad. What would Dad think?

Taylor wasn't sure if she should be glad that she couldn't cry, she was already a melting puddle of misery after all.

'Mom… Dad… I miss you both.'

She had a bed, more a cot really. But she still slid over to it. And despite the fact she was basically a sentient puddle, she wasn't _actually_ a liquid. Thankfully, the blanket was soft and that let her ball herself up in the middle of the whole thing.

'Wish you were here.' Wasn't that the truth. 'I cried a lot you know. A lot a lot. And once I even forgot. Stupid, of course, but I was tired and Dad was cooking and it smelled like your food. And… for a second there I thought it was you.'

That day was still clear in her mind. Her father had been… so small. Bent over with grief, eyes still red and bloodshot, though she'd never seen him cry, he'd given her a wan smile as he fried up some hashbrowns. They'd eaten breakfast in silence, up until they'd started laughing. Nothing had happened that had been funny, nothing had set them off.

They'd just started laughing.

After that, and when breakfast had been cleared away, they'd just sat together and talked.

Taylor hadn't gone to school and he hadn't gone to work, but neither cared. Sitting together had been… enough.

Neither of them had been healed, not even close, but after that day they'd stopped crying so much. And she could still feel her dad's arms around her shoulders. He wasn't the largest guy in the world, but he was solid.

It had been good.

"Huff."

Her whole body exhaled. Air passed through every part of her and carried her sorrow with it. Just like before, when she'd only been able to push through school, she wasn't completely better. Taylor still felt heavy, but she was lighter.

'One more little step, I suppose.'

Rolling out of her bed, she stared at the reflective mask of one of the troopers. Even though she was still a puddle, she was at least closer to a pancake than the paint splatter she'd resembled before.

Remembering what her father was like was easy. Way too easy. But remembering what he was like in that room, how his eyes had begged her not to give up, was even easier. She didn't hate him. Taylor didn't even resent him anymore. As she stared into that mirror sheen, that iron faced soldier watching over her there was… peace.

Infinitesimally small, but peace nonetheless.

'I can't wait to come home Dad.'

But first, there was something she needed to. It wouldn't do to go home looking like a Freddy Krueger reject after all.

She had all the time in the world to practice after all.

Suddenly, she felt the floor reverberate, echoes of steps vibrating through her liquified body. The hissing of the door was all the warning she had before a full dozen PRT troopers entered the cell block. She recoiled in fright, her body reforming into its spherical shape as the small squad marched down the hallway.

Taylor watched them uneasily.

Were they here for her?

No.

They were carrying regular guns. If they had been sent to force her to go anywhere they would have brought at least heavy artillery to try and intimidate her with. They weren't here to transfer her out.

They were here to bring someone_ in_.

Intrigued, the young cape climbed the small table where her 'speak board' normally stayed. It was just an average wooden coffee table tall enough to let her better see what was going on outside of her cell, but simple enough that there wasn't anything in its makeup that would let her get up to any funny business.

Armsmaster may sympathize with her, but the man wasn't one to take any chances.

'Still, who could it be?'

Had the PRT decided to roll up their sleeves and start getting work done? It would certainly be ironic. But who could they have brought in?

Perhaps an Empire cape had a bad day?

Or maybe the ABB had finally gotten onto their nerves?

'Please don't let it be a Merchant.' The conversations would be dull and the stench would be even worse.

Taylor was… surprised when it turned out they were half carrying, half escorting a blonde girl-no-young woman. She was a bit on the short side but very pretty, past the high level Brute restraints at least.

Well, she thought they were Brute restraints. The heavy chains, thick locks, and muzzle certainly implied that. Frankly, Taylor seriously wondered why they were carrying the girl like that if she was so dangerous she needed those chains.

"Maybe her power is momentum based? And the goal is to immobilize, not just lock up?"

It was an odd guess, but not a terrible one she mused. More importantly, the warbling screech that was her voice had only come out of the front third of her body that time! Slow progress was progress nonetheless.

The troopers huddled around the door of the cell, weapons at the ready as the prisoner stumbled into the enclosure before quickly closing the opening. She saw one of them move to the panel next to the cell, likely to access some sort of code lock. It was too far away, however, and the other guards made it even harder to try and get a peek.

Taylor saw the trooper at the panel step back and pull something from his pocket. Some sort of remote, she thought. He clicked a button on it and motioned for the others to move.

Just who had they brought in?

There was a faint click as the restraints around the woman's head came undone, the mechanisms folding together to form some sort of collar around her neck; the other chains collapsing just as suddenly and pooling around her. The transition was slow and gave ample time for the armed guards to swiftly march down the hallway and through the access door.

A tad too hurriedly.

'Just what is it that got them so nervous?' Taylor wondered as she watched the facemask's locks click open, the metal folding on itself as it began to form some sort of band around the woman's head.

'Or was it a circlet?'

Details, details!

'Annnd I was right. Emma, Glory Girl, Miss Militia, Lady Photon, Brandish, her, even Battery was cute! Am I the only unattractive female cape in this city!?' As Taylor was cursing her current, and previous, form, she suddenly remembered one very important thing. 'At least I'm not Squealer.'

She shuddered a little.

Monstrous or not, at least she could boast to never get as bad as _that _abomination.

Which was actually pretty sad, especially considering how gorgeous the woman in the cell opposite to her looked.

Her hair was dishevelled.

Her skin was pale from the lack of sun.

There was even a bit of leftover make up smeared over the corners of her eyes.

Yet she still managed to look better than most women Taylor knew. And Taylor had a bad habit of comparing herself to every half decent woman that walked her way.

'Thanks for that Sophia.' Thinking about the sporty, athletic, utterly psychotic girl that had put her here had Taylor distracted for a moment, but eventually she returned to gawking at her new roomy.

'Is she a supermodel or something?' Something was dancing in the back of her mind, practically doing a jazz number on her brain stem. "Wait…. Blonde, attractive, her mouth was secured…. No way! Is that _Canary!?'_

Holy shit, it was Canary.


	7. Chapter 6

**AN: Welcome dear readers to our 100 follower celebration! Featuring an extra large chapter with a side dish of fresh edits. Come one, come all! Get your piping hot serving of the newest installment of Flask! As always Wyvern and the Warhawk invite you to join our mad banquet of darkness.  
**

**AtW: As of right now, we're working on the second chapter and have finished editing the first chapter. Half of that is my fault, I simply didn't plan for college well enough. That said, progress is moving swiftly and I think the quality has risen significantly.**

**CW: And I spent half of the week without my laptop. So yeah, this was rough to finish. Hence why the extra week of waiting. We hope you guys enjoy this one. Finally, the plot is moving forward!  
**

**AtW: Hopefully you like it and things are clear enough on how we want them to go. I do want feedback on the tone of things. Does it feel… real? Or, well, real enough.**

**CW: Only you, our faithful readers, can tell. Now, onto the show!**

**Chapter 6 - The Gilded Cage**

To a teenager, there were few things more horrifying than being forced to stay put for more than a couple hours at a time. Case in point, Winslow or, Hell, school _anywhere_. Everyone knew teenagers just had too much energy to focus and pay attention. For some reason, adults the US over had decided this was a behavioral issue and just crammed them in, thirty plus to a class room, and damn your eyes if you had an issue with it. Of course, you still had your classmates, and if you weren't boned, your friends to talk to and it was only for eightish hours a day. Not counting homework, of course.

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite the same when it came to parahuman jail.

Outside of her on and off conversations with whomever happened to be checking up on her at the time, Taylor hadn't had the luxury of freely moving about since she did the power testing for Armsmaster. Or speaking with people. Or just doing anything other than stewing in her own bubblegum juices and hoping her dad had gotten her a lawyer.

That had been three days ago and, as expected, the small blob of pink jelly was about ready to climb up the walls.

In fact, she had actually done that one or twice to stave off the ever growing boredom building inside of her.

But that too had lost its fun after she learnt how to properly 'hold' onto the walls.

Because of her status as a "dangerous" parahuman, there wasn't much that could be done to alleviate her hyperactivity. Apparently there were security issues with constantly moving her between the cell blocks and the testing room she first used. And, on top of that, her unique biology meant she didn't require exercise, or showers, or even really _sunlight_. So… she was stuck. Up shit creek without a paddle, and inside of a tiny box that she could _taste_.

Had she had any eyes at the time, she would have rolled them.

What did they think she was going to do, stage a prison break?

Ironically, for the first time in her life, all eyes were on Taylor Hebert. Most of them silent, very few of them friendly, but, thankfully, none of them openly hostile. Even Miss Militia had become polite, almost a bit sympathetic, now that the Wards had recovered. Something she only knew because she overheard a few of the troopers muttering.

Apparently, being a single mass of supersensitive semi fluid did wonders for her ability to taste, smell, and hear. Even if… interpreting things could be a bit odd. At least the floor was cleanish. So sensitive was her ability to taste that, if she ordered her body to focus on it, she could detect motes of bleach, what she thought might be containment foam, and what was _definitely_ blood.

Like she said, mostly clean.

Of course, that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. And her new semi roommate was far more interesting. Though Taylor was… quite frustrated Canary was allowed out to take showers.

'Though… hmm. She _does_ have to use a prison toilet. And while we get curtains, that isn't fun either.' Pausing in her rolling, the pink blob pondered the question. 'No privacy when using the bathroom, but I get out for showers? Yeah, I want out.'

Sending out a few tendrils, Taylor began to crawl onto the doorframe of her cell. Being meant as somewhat long term housing for a variety of potential body types, the cell itself wasn't terrible. About fifteen feet square, it had a cot, a combination sink and toilet with a small curtain for privacy, and even a window. Though pretty much everything else was burnished grey metal, save for a few seams where the recessed defenses and floor drains were concealed. Obviously, there were cameras but they were hidden well enough that whomever ended up could pretend they weren't there.

Small mercies.

The window was a small piece of super dense plastic layered on top of double reinforced armor plating that only simulated the outside of the rig, from the perspective of a whole twenty different camera angles.

She'd eaten it on day two.

'I miss that stupid thing.'

It had tasted pretty good though. The wiring and LED's having a… kick to them. Like red pepper flakes, but cool and smooth. Being politely asked not to eat anything else had been even more entertaining, especially because she'd also been bribed with extra cafeteria food.

Still, she was bored and there was literally nothing to do but sit there and screw with the troopers or make faces at Canary. The woman's stupid necklace turned any and all attempts at communication into garbled messes that had taken Taylor _days_ to make heads or tails of.

Stupid court of law and their stupid rulings.

So that's what she did. Positioning her full body over the door, she wiggled her tendrils deep into the hooks of the frame and… expanded. Not enough to do any damage, even if she wanted to Taylor doubted she could, but forming a trio of human eyes that never blinked and could stare at the troopers for their whole shift was fun.

The first time she did that, one of the poor guys overreacted and sounded the escape alarm. And that was the day Taylor managed to ask nearly the entire East Coast Protectorate for their autographs.

Her dad had, had to take home a _bag_ full of signed memorabilia.

And it was still the most fun she ever had. So, smiling on the inside, literally, she crawled into position and waited. 

Hilariously, she could _smell_ the men positioned outside of her door sweat.

'Only seven or eight minutes, this one. I think they're sending me rookies now.' That wasn't any reason to slack, however. If this guy wasn't warned then she was gonna milk the reaction for all it was worth. Waiting until they stepped away from her cell and began their next set of rounds, she figured something inspired by It would go over wonderfully.

Taylor felt her mass ripple and twist around itself as it took a new shape. The tendrils holding her against the window were the only part of her which stayed the same as her 'body' took the form of a giant mixture of a jack-o-lantern, a skull, and a ventriloquist puppet.

Show time. 

"That. Not. Good. Idea."

Her three eyes rolled in unison. The electronic tones of a voice board, just like the one she had, echoed in her room. Reaching besides her with one of her tendrils, Taylor typed out a response to her party pooper of a cellmate. Blockmate. Whatever.

"I. Am. Bored."

This time it was the singer turned prison garb model who rolled her eyes at her, light brown orbs pinning her with a warning as the guards started their final round before the next shift; their steps echoing down the hallway and through Taylor's tendrils like a spider's web.

Steady….

Steady….

She saw blue!

**"▂▂▃▃▅▅▅▅▅▅"**

The young looking trooper leapt back, face white as a ghost as he reached for his waist and actually fired his taser at the ultra reinforced glass panel separating them. The electric discharge fizzled against the wall harmlessly. But it wasn't like Taylor actually cared about it.

She was much too busy rolling on the floor with laughter.

Or well, her version of laughter, which was more akin to a combination of broken car horn noises and the dying croak of a particularly large amphibian; making her seem like the weirdest frog in the world.

'Oh god! His face! His face!'

Training her eyes on him, she noticed the poor guy had his back against the other side of the hallway, clutching his chest as if he were having a heart attack.

She wheezed out another honking croak.

"What. He. Gets. For. Not. Wearing. His. Helmet."

Paige reached for her own type board.

"Well. I. Hope. You. Are. Satisfied."

Taylor rolled off the ground in mirth, her tendrils brushing over the keyboards with practiced ease.

"Why?" She asked curiously.

**BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK! **

The blaring sirens of the emergency alarm answered her. Already the troopers in the hallway were stacking up and the guy who she had scared was hustled out of there. These new soldiers, and they really did look like _soldiers_, were in full tactical gear and were armed with foam sprayers and rifles. Frankly, she wondered how much they'd panic if they realized she could eat the glass panel separating them.

Sure, she might get hosed down with foam, but it would be worth seeing their reactions. It would also be good practice for them. Just in case a big, bad villain did decide to bust out someday.

'Maybe I'll ask Armsmaster if I can test the efficiency of "containment breach response protocols" or something like that. I can see him letting me actually go pretty wild.'

Two recessed turrets dropped out of the corners of her room and immediately fired at her. The containment foam quickly had her secured to the floor and all she could do was to continue laughing. Even if it was a bit more forced. Letting her eyes focus on her friend, and not the slowly closing space she was locked in, Taylor expanded enough that she'd have a small hollow to roll around in once the foam was dried.

She… wasn't a fan of tight spaces.

Across from her, she could see Canary pinching the bridge of her nose as the turrets erupted from the sides of her own cubicle to foam her down too. The look of absolute annoyance on her eyes reminded Tailor a tad too much of Emma, but that was just par for the course. As she'd learnt, there were many similarities between her best friend and her new friend and fellow prisoner.

Well, friend might be a bit much. But Taylor liked to think they were making progress. Even if their conversations were a bit stilted, and she annoyed Paige, they'd exchanged names, and she was super jealous her cell mate got to leave her cell… basically, Taylor was trying to be optimistic.

'Frankly, as bad as things are I have so much to be thankful. Dad is actually talking to me every day, Mr. Barnes might feel like shit but he's got my back, I'm not being bullied, and I think I have the most complete collection of cape signatures in the city.' As she waited in her little hollow something occurred to her. 'I wonder if the Wards would sign a few cards for me? I know I kind of beat them up, but, hey, miracles happen right?'

Still, she was a bit frustrated as her view of Paige was cut off. They hadn't talked much on the first day. Not because they were scared of one another or anxious, but because Canary's cell lacked the voiceboard Taylor had equipped in her own, with her collar-mask preventing her from speaking audibly.

Most of what they done had been exchange nods and one off ' yes or no' questions.

It was… awkward.

There was something incredibly uncomfortable about staring at someone you knew was going through something similar to you. The circumstances, the source of their problems, the way people around them had reacted.

In a way, their stories ran more or less parallel.

Canary, whose career had been ruined by the one instance in which she used her parahuman power. Flask, the unfortunate girl who had rampaged and knocked the entirety of the Wards out of commission.

Just thinking about it hurt.

It was… way too cruel. To dangle the proof that what was happening to you could and would happen to someone else. And that, just like them, whether you were ruined or not was a decision out of your hands.

'This is horrible'

That was the first understanding she reached with the older woman. And what lead to them opening up once Armsmaster got around to installing her communication board. Of course, even then they didn't started talking immediately. But it had helped Taylor cope somewhat with her previous lack of company.

To know that right then, right before her, stood someone who understood.

And that meant the world to her.

-  
**  
BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK!**

'Really Taylor? Again?' Emma couldn't help the sigh of sheer exasperation that escaped her as the troopers stationed just outside thundered down the halls towards the maximum security area. Just as they had yesterday when her wayward friend decided she had enough of being ignored and started stress testing the facility.

As in, she was going to drive them all crazy with stress. Perhaps it was payback, maybe she was just bored. Either way, the troopers were getting a workout, and everyone would _definitely_ be up to date with the emergency procedures.

Across from her, sitting straight as a statue, was a very much unamused Armsmaster.

His expression was perfectly calm. Except for a slight twitch in his clean shaved jaw. Emma was impressed. Whether that was with her boss or her… friend, she hoped Taylor still thought of her as a friend, remained to be seen.

Armsmaster sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. It was amusing to the redhead that the legendarily stoic cape shared everyone else's frustration, it was almost humanizing. It went without saying that said annoyance was compounded by the overwhelming frustration someone in charge felt when unnecessary problems cropped.

Though, to be fair, much the same could be said about the other members of the Wards present. With the exception of Clockblocker, who decided he found the idea to be hilarious and was making a pitiful effort to hide his chuckles.

'Of course he wouldn't mind this. He likely expected it.'

She really wouldn't put it beyond him to have somehow influenced Taylor into going through with it the first time either. The dangers of having so many powerful, yet still just as hormonally driven teenagers stuck in the same place for too long. It was a miracle that no one had gotten knocked up, Ward, trooper, or civi.

When Clockblocker pulled a pair of orange and green plugs out of his suit's pocket, her suspicion ratched up a notch. When he then pulled a small package out, with another set of plugs inside of it, and then offered it to their commander, Emma was ready to choke him. The nearly mournful shake of the head Armsmaster gave in refusal almost warmed her heart enough to not murder Dennis later.

Almost.

"No thank you."

Everyone blinked for a moment. Armsmaster was _polite_?

'Damn Taylor. You're locked up and still doing a number on Armsmaster. That's… damn.'

She didn't know whether to feel proud of her friend for doing something that took the combined shenanigans of the Wards not fucking up for a full month to accomplish, or if she should go down to the cells and give the harebrained idiot a lecture on not making her situation any worse. God knows how close to a second trigger the Tinker was if he was being sociable and nice. 

Well. The lecture probably wouldn't work anyways.

"Um, sir, are you ready to continue?" Gallant spoke up, the alarms blessedly silent.

The man looked relieved to receive an out and graciously took it with both hands.

"Yes. Of course." He cleared her throat. "I believe we'd just finished the preliminary discussion of your time off. However, before then, we have a few things to go over. Today we will be running a performance check due to your recent return to activity. I received a report from our on-site medic that all Wards, with the exception of Shadow Stalker, have a clean bill of health."

Emma winced at the mention of Sophia.

The girl was still undergoing treatment for whatever mental damage the fight with Taylor had caused. And though she no longer needed heavy sedation to be approached for check ups, she still suffered from nightmares that if left unchecked could cause a psychotic break. Apparently, it was the kind of PTSD that took years to deal with properly. Fortunately, she was a Ward and the PRT had experience with this kind of trauma.

The diamond-skinned Ward felt the realization was… ironic, given what she'd been told by her father about her friend's situation. 

"Speaking of, when are the reviews for the Trump SOPs? I'm eager to get in a few hours of extra training." Aegis shifted in his chair. "We were smacked around like kids. That's unacceptable."

"Those are set for next week. Unfortunately, all footage related to Flask is still being collated and isn't expected to be released to the planning committee until Saturday. We're frankly lucky the BPD isn't fighting us more on that." Armsmaster's lips tightened. "However, we expect the Merchants will be causing issues in the coming days, taking advantage of the temporary chaos to push against the other gangs. We'll be reviewing footage relevant to them today."

A button press later and the familiar sight of Protectorate issued data files covered the far screen. They were the short lists, referred to as "Pages" by the troopers. It had left Emma a bit shaken to find out that the Black Book was a real thing, even if it was officially called 'Procedures Rectifying Internal Crisis and Emergency Situations'.

P.R.I.C.E.S.

These were the sanitized versions though. Breakdowns of the capes in question, their powers, their known tricks, hypotheticals about their abilities. The good stuff for when you might need to crack their skull open.

Emma knew most capes around Brockton like the palm of her hand, courtesy of Parahuman Online and the sheer amount of discussion and gossip that went there regarding the daily comings and goings of capes. Even people like Rune or Oni Lee had enough stalkers to keep track of them basically twenty four seven. Phone cameras were damn usual like that.

However, when it came to the Merchants, things got weird.

It wasn't like they were hard to track down or get information from. Rather, it was the fact they were so chaotically insane and doped up that one could never know what went inside their heads half the time.

Just this year alone they had caused major structural damage to sewer lines, stolen half a ton of barley, and then went on to hold a mockery of one of Kaiser's rallies. That one had gotten the E88 to push hard enough the mayor was damn close to asking the FBI for help. Case in point, their latest appearance was a series of car robberies leading them to think the Merchants might be trying to build something.

Something big.

Drugged out of her mind or not, Squealer was still a Tinker.

And there was nothing more bullshit than tinkertech.

"We don't know at present where the Merchants are keeping the stolen cars, but a preliminary sweep has ruled out most of the clandestine garages used to disassemble vehicles and they haven't been sighted near any storage areas. As usual, the Boat Graveyard is silent. Taking into account the logistic nightmare of hiding automobiles amongst the wreckage, and the fact no increase of gang activity in the area has been reported means we simply don't know _where_ they are."

Kid Win raised his hand.

"Could they have set up a hideout? Crazy as they might be, Skidmark has been known to vanish from time to time to avoid getting stomped out by the other gangs."

The older hero shook his head.

"Even if that were the case, there are very few areas where they could hide themselves as well as the stolen merchandise. As such, we suspect that the Merchants might have come into contact with either a new supplier or someone who has the organizational skills to keep them focused. Toybox has been suggested and there are rumors, coming from non powered informants, that west coast capes have been getting involved."

Browbeat shuffled in place, loudly enough to attract the room's attention.

"The Elite?"

Nodding, Armsmaster confirmed that was their suspicion.

"Perhaps. Or someone they've driven out. The Empire is affiliated with Gesellschaft, the ABB is firmly Lung's, and that leaves only a few other ins into the city. Our proximity to Boston, high number of capes, and relative notoriety also make us an excellent springboard for further expansion." He paused for a moment. "If it _is_ Toybox selling to the Merchants, then we can expect tinkertech. Both purchased and more, and higher quality, creations from Squealer. If it's the Elite, we should expect conventional arms, more disciplined thugs, and possibly additional capes. Though this is merely supposition, we should plan for the worst."

"It's best we not be surprised." Missy's voice was soft, but firm. "If outsiders are planning on making a push, things might get violent." She licked her lips. "How bad are we thinking it might be? Especially with the civies getting pushy."

"There is a non zero chance martial law could be declared."

"Should we tell our parents to… take a trip? Go on vacation or something."

Clockblocker's question was hardly surprising. He, out of all of them, had the most vulnerable. Missy's derisive snort didn't help, but everyone knew exactly what she thought about her folks so Dennis didn't hold it against her. Armsmaster was a touch slow in answering, however, and that worried Emma more than anything else.

"I can not say in good conscience that staying in the city over the coming days will be safe. And I can not say that I would want my family here, if I had one. However, it would be inappropriate to tell you to relocate any potential family members. I can say, though, that if you've been planning a trip now would be the time to take it."

"So basically we aren't expecting to have to declare martial law, but it might happen anyways?" Emma's tone was… borderline insubordinate, but she was feeling more than a little annoyed. "I thought we were getting back up? Is this really going to turn into a HOSV situation? Shouldn't we… warn people?"

Armsmaster took off his helmet. Sighing, he ran a hand across his face.

"Warn them about what? That they're going to riot, that the gangs are on the verge of getting the National Guard called up?" Frustration and even a hint of exhaustion was clear, worming its way into his features. "We have a duty to this city. And that means we have to do what's needed. To protect, to serve. ...To keep _this_ from falling apart."

Emma sighed.

"Yes sir. I understand."

He stood.

"And that's why this is so important. Taking down the Merchants, _before_ they can launch their next attack, will not only restore the city's faith in us but help us all come together. They're parasites, part of what's killing us all. We're facing a particularly trying time, but I know we can push through this. Together."

The room was silent. No one said a word. And then Dennis coughed.

"So, Armsmaster, sir, did Dragon send you a few books on how to give inspiring speeches?"

Utterly deadpan, he nodded.

"She did."

It started slowly. A few sniggers here, then Missy chuckled, and then the Wards were laughing uproariously while Colin simply stood there looking slightly confused. Eventually, his confusion dropped and he chuckled too. After the laughing teenagers calmed down, he replaced his helmet and continued speaking.

"The joke was her idea too. You should thank her." Emma had a feeling he didn't mean that as a suggestion. "And she was right. Recent events have been trying, but I know you'll all be operational. In the coming days you'll be moving in force and it's going to be more than just a show. Expect combat. Expect firearms. Expect many, many letters from the Youth Guard. But you will come out of this stronger, smarter, and ready to take on any other challenges you face. For now, let's finish the briefing and then break for lunch."

Emma felt better, lighter. She was still worried, and she'd still be asking her dad to take the rest of the family to Disney Land or something, but this was… ok. She had a job to do, team mates that relied on her, and a city to look after.

And above all that, Taylor still needed her. Worrying her bottom lip, just a bit, she decided she'd go see Director Piggot after all this was done.

'I want to see Taylor and I don't care what I need to do to get to her.'

Spine stiffening, she did her best to focus on the briefing even as her mind was on the conversations to come.

-

There were days when Sarah Livsey, otherwise known as Lisa Wilbourn, otherwise known as Tattletale could fool herself into thinking she was having fun. That she could pretend she enjoyed being the henchwoman of a deranged psychopath hellbent on taking over the city and probably rule it with an iron fist.

You know, basic villain stuff.

And frankly, she did up to a certain point. The control, the power, the _freedom_. It was intoxicating. 

"That's a horrible idea, boss."

Unfortunately, this wasn't one of those days.

"Your input has been noted, Tattletale. Nonetheless, you are still required to complete your assignment." The slimy bastard rasped from the other end of the line, his tone completely deadpan. "It is fully within your capability to do this and if need be, I'm willing to… pay."

Her powers pinged.

_Expected disagreement._

_Confident you will follow orders._

_Important task._

_Will not take 'no' for an answer._

A flash of plain streaked through her head, leaving Lisa wincing in discomfort as she considered the new information. Important plans could mean anything, from gaining an advantage to eliminating a rival or enemy. And even then, it could be a plan within a plan within a course, there was no way to tell with someone as paranoid and well prepared as her boss.

She sighed, and took the bait.

"Even if I agreed. And that's a big if, there is no way we can pull a string of jobs like that. Not without having the entirety of the Bay fall on our heads, boss. Tensions are high and the Empire is looking to get as much good PR as they can. We… would not do well if Hookwolf finally got Kaiser's blessing to gut us." She hated whining, but she hated dying in agony more. "You gotta work with me here."

There was a faint sigh of annoyance from the other end.

Tattletale knew what was coming.

Ping!

_Possible annoyance._

_Possible bluff._

She really, REALLY, hated days like these.

"Your ability to escape or lack thereof has never been put into question, Miss Livesey. The Undersiders are merely required to strike at the designed targets at the appointed time. So long as you follow the instructions, your safety is assured."

Tattletale bit back a rather unflattering comment.

Ever since she had come under the hazardous and often frustrating employment of the snake-themed villain, the two of them had been doing this dance where she would try to learn more about his plans and abilities and the man would try to conceal them from her to the best of his abilities.

For every question she answered, three more appeared.

For every morsel of information she managed to pilfer from the man, the tighter his hold over her and the Undersiders became. The man just seemed to _know_ things about them, things he shouldn't know! And even when she tried to be clever, or find wiggle room, or do _anything_ that might help her slip free it… always backfired.

And it drove her insane.

Ping!

_Confident his plan will succeed._

_Has received guarantees._

_Trusts source of his information._

'Oh? That's a new one.' If there was one thing she knew about Coil was that he didn't trust people, and was as pragmatically rational as a machine. If you worked for him, he would find the most optimal way to keep you working for him until he didn't need you anymore. So for him to be relying on someone else meant they were good at what they did, or had no choice but to do so.

She didn't know which one scared her more.

Yet this also provided her with something she desperately needed.

Opportunity.

For as long as Lisa had known Coil, the man had always stayed one step ahead of her.

Her powers barely dragged morsels of information about the man and his plans, and whatever she could extrapolate from the dozens of false leads simply left her running in circles. 

Chasing her own tail, as Rachel might say.

Well, if she spoke in anything but grunts.

"Alright. Let's say I trust you on this. How do I convince the others?"

They both knew she'd have them wrapped around her finger if she wanted. But, they also both knew that if she pushed too hard she'd end up stabbed in the back. Push too hard and people push back. It also went without saying she had a particular way of getting on people's nerves.

"As always, tell Brian that he'll have custody of his sister, tell Rachel she will have her record wiped clean, and that Alec will be protected from his father, indefinitely, so long as you don't fail." He paused. "And, assuming_ you_ don't try to betray me, I'm even willing to let your leash slip. Just a bit."

Lisa didn't need her powers to guess exactly what he was hinting at. 

"You want us to go big time don't you? We don't have the firepower to do that."

A fake, mechanical laugh was her only answer.

"My hardworking little bishop, I promise you I won't just throw you away. You're too valuable to do that to. I can only assure you that soon enough you'll be working with a few other individuals of… unique People who'd be willing to listen to you, too. Without serious threats, at least."

She sighed.

This… wasn't what she was expecting, and opened so many questions.

"Sarah, do as you're told. And, to keep the rest of them in line, tell them I'll double whatever you steal. But get this done. Understood?"

Ping!

_Implied threat._

_Imminent danger._

_Worry over success._

And just like that, Lisa's smile lit up like a christmas tree. Worry? Coil of all people was worried about something?

'Okay. Power. Don't let me down now! Lisa. Keep your cool. Don't ruin this. All you need to do is make your highly unstable teammates accept what amounts to a suicide mission with little to no incentive but the threat that their lives will be ruined if they fail.'

Easy!

**[A Few Minutes Later]**

"Absolutely not, Tattletale." Grue shot her down.

Immediately.

"Oh come on! Grue, you know this is a pretty big favor for the boss. We nail this operation and he will have us set for life! He's paying us double whatever we grab."

That got her interested looks.

Good. Interest was good.

"Do you guys have any idea what we can do with that kind of money?" She leafed through the list of targets. A full dozen of them. "We have stores of all kinds here. Half of that we take here would make us a mincing. Imagine double! Rachel would be able to open half a dozen shelters, and Alec wouldn't even know what to do with it."

"She is right you know!" Alec piped in.

Unfortunately, they weren't all as easy to convince.

"And what good will that do us when we are dead, Lisa? You said the boss will pay us, but can we even pull this off? There are a dozen targets here, most of them in gang territory and others in places that normally would get the PRT on top of us." The tall teenager grunted, pinning her with a disbelieving stare.

And he was right, of course.

Just hitting one of the places listed would be enough to get monsters like Lung chasing them off, eager for payback, never mind the fall out with the Protectorate.

But it was still too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Listen Grue, you keep saying that we should be taking more risks, right? That the boss needs to trusts us more with better pay. Well, I am telling you that this our chance. We do this, and the boss is gonna trust us for sure."

"Trust? What are you on about, Tats?" Alec snorted."You're the only one he talks to. And what is he gonna trust us with? More heists? Maybe the keys to some brand new secret hideout. Our own gang?"

Rachel growled at the mention of the G-word.

Lisa chuckled nervously. "Technically, we are already classified as one by the PRT."

"Not helping your point, Lisa." Grue rolled his eyes.

"And what will?" She rolled her eyes right back.

"Assurances, for one. If the boss wants us to risk our necks, we gotta be sure he isn't throwing us away." Alec chimed in.

"We want to know the plan." Rachel growled, speaking for the first time.

Perhaps it was because Lisa had been using her powers a lot lately, but she was already feeling a migraine coming on. Indebted to Coil or not, there was no way she could convince her team to go on a suicide mission just because it would net them a big score. Survival instincts were a thing after all.

Even if they were, indeed, crazy.

"Look, I don't know much about myself, but-"

"No buts." Brian stood up, walking over to her. Lisa… really wished he wasn't so tall. "I want to make money, maybe not as much as Alec, but I do. I also don't want to have to scrape my brain off the sidewalk after an angry cop manages to finally hit me. Rachel has her dogs, Alec has his ass, and I have my sister."

The black skinned boy paused for a moment, choosing his words.

"You've got something to lose, too. Think about that. Maybe it's just a memory, someone you ran away from or ran away from you. But _that_ is what you're risking."

She wanted to slap the boy standing in front of her.

She wanted to sigh and agree.

Instead, Lisa nodded her head.

"It's not about the money." Alec called out that it was for him. They all ignored the boy. "He has a gun to my head. And promised to at least put the safety on. I'm not stupid enough to trust him, but for me it's literally life or death." Lisa rubbed her forehead. "If I'm lucky. if not, it's gonna be bad enough that I'll wish I was dead."

"At least tell us who we're working for. That way I can shake his hand. God knows I'd give up twenty, well, ten percent of my cut just to get him to keep you quiet."

"Alec, shut up or you're gonna wake up spread eagled in a motel." She was thinking long and hard. Tattletale knew her next move could either get her exactly what she wanted or a bullet to her head. In the end, she decided _he_ wanted this done more than he wanted total anonymity.

"Coil."

Bitch chuffed, more interested in petting her dogs than the fact they were owned by the snake themed James Bond reject. Brian and Alec were more suitably shocked. The former recovering first.

"Wait, wait, wait. Is that how we always get away? Is he pulling strings or something?"

The Master's response was a bit less appropriate.

"How come we don't have laser guns!?"

Everyone, even Bitch's hounds, turned to stare at him.

"What." His tone defensive. "Everyone knows his mercs have lasers and if he's our boss he should at least front us a blaster pistol or something."

Everyone ignored him again.

"Yeah. I know for a fact we're not his only asset. And I _think_ he's got at least one more team of capes under his control. More than that, I think we're just a distraction. I… my power isn't _sure_ on this, but it highly suspects there's more going on than we know." Lisa walked over to the couch, pushing Alec's feet out of the way and grabbing the remote control. Flipping through the news channels, she found a hair piece talking about Brockton Bay.

"Shit. Is he planning to bust Canary out or something?" Brian sounded genuinely concerned. "If that's the case, we could be pinned as accomplices. Intentionally staging a distraction so someone could get away. That's… not small time."

Shrugging, the blonde made a so-so gesture.

"I don't know. Maybe? It's part of it. I'm pretty sure of that. But my gut is telling me there's _way_ more to it than just that. And my power is telling me things are about to get busy."

She shrugged again.

"For what it's worth, it's not a trap. Not on his end at least. He _needs_ this to work."

"Doesn't mean we aren't all going to die." Rachel's gruff tone made Lisa wince.

"We'll all die sometime. And if this is gonna be as big as it looks, he won't be able to throw us away. Not to mention, in this kind of chaos people are bound to die. Hookwolf _will_ make an appearance. If he got in our way…."

The canine cape actually looked thoughtful while both Alec and Brian grew nervous.

"And it's not like any of the gangs will be able to focus on us. We hit the Empire, drag them into ABB territory, and the two will tear into each other. Slip in, grab the cash, and get out. All the money we can load onto the dogs and anything we can carry too."

Greed blazed in Alec's eyes, the promise of luxury, of the power and security that came with wealth, and the knowledge he'd be fucking over people he _really_ did not like had won him over.

"That does sound pretty damn good."

Tattletale turned to Grue. He was wary, but it was too late.

"Aisha wouldn't need to hide. You wouldn't have to worry about getting jumped. And you'd be able to _bribe_ a judge to give you sole custody. You might not even need to do that. He flat out stated he'd make sure you would get your sister. Coil needs us. This is our shot."

His head buckled.

"Ok, you win Lisa. Just… promise me we'll make it through this?"

"I can't do that." There were many things she would do, but lie to… the closest thing she had to a friend was not one of them. "But I can promise you things will be different after this. And better for us. _All_ of us."

-

"AaaAaahHHHHh?"

"No good. Your voice is trembling."

"eeeeeeEHhhh?"

"You are focusing on the wrong pitch. You need to speak loud then lower your voice."

"IiihIiiH!"

"Aww. Adorable. Like a dolphin!"

"Oh?" Taylor quirked her 'eyebrow' at her cooing friend, a strange combination of annoyance and amusement building up inside her.

After her latest stunt, the troopers had been nice enough cart off both her and Canary to the 'testing' room. Probably because she had finally succeeded in annoying them into letting her do _anything_ other than rot inside the cell. She gave it even odds that they'd gotten in trouble for sending in the rookies to be scared or that the brass was just tired of the constant headaches she caused when bored.

'Or hungry. Or annoyed when they won't let me out for showers. Or, well, basically whenever because I don't have _anything_ to do in here.' Taylor paused in her annoyance for a moment. 'Am I overreacting? I have been arrested and surely I should attempt to act mature, dignified even?' And then she remembered who and what she was. 'Nah. I'm fourteen and a ball of slime because they let their pet psycho off the leash. Wonder why I'm not more upset about that.'

In the end, she metaphorically shrugged. She was just happy that she'd finally been let out of that tiny, tiny cell. Of course, that her cellmate has been given the chance to accompany her made things even better.

"Don't worry about it. You are doing well, you just need to user the proper intonation. After that we van move into individual syllables."

"Uhh! Uhh!"

Indeed. Taylor Hebert was now the proud student of one Paige Mcabee, world famous musician and current guest of the Rig Hostel for Poor Unfortunate Souls.

'I wonder if setting a montage of this to Hotel California would sync up in a significant way?'

There wasn't much in the way of recreational activities, so the most they could do was amuse each other, mainly by helping Taylor relearn how to speak.

To varied results.

"Waah Ih?"

"Well, that's because we need to build up to more complex sounds. The more time you devote to the basics, the less garbled you will sound."

"Gooh Teeti!"

Taylor took a deep 'breath', inhaling air to create a large bubble within her mass. The first step of the method they had found to help her speak. At least generally 'speaking'.

Puns aside, her directional vibrations just weren't working. She could create scales with them. Broken, off key scales, but scale nonetheless. However, it was almost impossible for her to both refine the sound and keep it a single direction, though she did learn how to control a single square inch of her surface at a time in ultra fine detail, and it always came out high pitched. A little like a dog whistle.

So, Canary decided they needed to figure out how to replicate her breathing.

By creating a hollow inside her mass and then opening a small aperture she could create a vacuum, to a mild degree at least, and pull atmosphere into her mass. Once there, the air was stored inside her body, much like a balloon, though it did slowly disperse into her form. As such, she was learning how to, _excruciatingly _slowly, replicate a larynx and voice box and allow herself to mimic human speech.

In theory, if she could relearn how to make the motions of the speaking apparatus she should be able to speak normally.

Even if she sounded like a squeaky toy.

"Eeel ohokaye?" She mumbled

"Progress, Taylor." Paige's eyes seemed to smile. "At this rate you'll actually be able to speak in a week."

She paused for a moment.

"Or maybe two."

Taylor hummed in happiness, though it sounded more like the buzzing of a bee in stereo. She crawled towards her friend, bumping her head against the older woman's legs, a small jump and she landed safely on Canary's hands.

"So? Another round of bounce ball?"

"Turoouh! Naau!"

With a spin and stretch, Paige launched Taylor like a missile, a gigantic pink ball which bounced off the wall, against the ceiling. Bouncing again and again, on and off like a giant pinball machine.

The experience was interesting. Kinda like a rollercoaster, only she could stop at anytime. Not that she would. It wasn't freedom, but the feel of the wind against her 'skin' was mighty pleasant. Even though she'd only had a few hours, she'd even learned how to… shift her momentum. Her body, being so unusual, could redirect energy. Sure, it made part of mass wobble like crazy, but if shifted her angle so, she could bounce a certain way. Or if she hit it like this or that she could stop herself or even speed up a little!

Of course, that was hardly enough for her. She was already experimenting with using her body to push off the walls and the floors, using her limbs to control her angle, and, obviously, how to bleed off enough speed to not hurt Paige when the blonde caught her. Going fast was fun but hurting the woman playing with her, even on accident, would be utterly, totally unacceptable.

"So Taylor-" Paige snatched her out of the air and sent her bouncing around again. "How old are you?"

Letting a pair of tendrils fly out, Taylor latched on to two walls and, even as she bounced about, managed to send out additional tendrils to grab onto the floor and ceiling too. Still flying about a bit, she let her grip slip and bounced off the floor, rolling forward and retracting her limbs into her body.

Splitting her mass into two large clumps, she formed a pink one and a four.

"Fourteen?"

Taylor reformed and nodded at Paige's comment.

"Really… I thought you were a bit younger. Well, no matter. I suppose you're entitled to act out a bit, considering how you ended up here, huh?"

'Younger? I-huh?' The pink blob slowed down, coming to rest before her friend. Letting out a tinkling noise, she then rolled over to her text-to-speech device and punched in her response.

"How. Old. Did. You. Think. I. Was."

Her manual dexterity had skyrocketed over the last few days and she could even speak coherently now! Well, type coherently. Now all she had to do was speed it up a bit.

"Like I said, you have the right to act out a bit." Taylor let out a huff of air and Canary chuckled. "Twelve. Maybe eleven. I only heard a little about your case while I was being moved. And, frankly, you haven't been able to sit still for more than ten minutes. Not that I don't understand."

'Have I really been acting out that much?' Thinking about it, she did realize that, yes, she had been a little… wild.

"Is. It. That. Bad."

The blonde shrugged.

"It's noticeable. And I know you're not making many friends by causing a panic once or twice a day."

'But I don't sleep! I just sit there and sit there and sit there! They haven't even give me any books.' Taylor was… angry. No, that wasn't right. She was frustrated. Annoyed. A little bitter. But she wasn't angry. At least, not at the PRT as a whole.

"What. Should. I. Do. Then. I. Do. Not. Want. To. Sit. There."

"I… was about to say sleep. Or workout. But… can you do either?"

"No."

Paige blinked.

"Wait, wait, wait. You've been awake for how many days now?"

Taylor once more shrugged.

"I. Am. Not. Sure. Since. My. Trigger. Event. When. I. Was. Injured. I. Was. Cognizant. Even. If. I. Was. Not. Under. Control." The blob paused for a moment, considering whether or not to elaborate on her answer. "I. Remember. What. Happened. But. It. Is. In. Flashes. I. Do. Not. Understand. Them."

"Shit. Do you remember triggering?"

"I. Remember. Melting. Once. My. Eyes. Were. Gone. I. Was. Blind."

"I-Taylor. I'm sorry."

Tired of words, Taylor rolled away from the machine and climbed up her friend's leg. Settling onto her shoulder, and condensing her body so that she fit, Taylor just let out a small trill and leaned against her.

'You're not wrong. And I forgive you so don't worry.'

Canary seemed to get the message. Sitting against the wall of the testing room, the blond woman began to rub Taylor's "head" with a finger while she hummed a song. It sounded slow and a little sad, but it was soothing. Soft… gentle.

It was nice. Letting out a series of soft tinkles, Taylor did her best to follow along. And, as she only half focused on the song, her thoughts drifted back to her actions over the previous days. And more than that, her moods.

'High to low, extreme agitation to crippling depression. Even now I'm morose when I was giggling just a moment ago. I know I wasn't exactly mentally flawless, even before the bullying, but this can't be normal.' Taylor felt the warmth of her friend's cheek, felt the good vibrations of what she vaguely recognized as a lullaby wash over her.

This was something she had definitely missed.

Companionship.

Not just since she was incarcerated, no, Tailor had been missing a true friend to confide in for a good long time now, ever since her sister in all but blood had taken a step back from her life. She understood it. Now more so than ever. But that did not prevent her from feeling isolated and alone all the same.

And now… now she had it.

Someone who was going through the exact same issues. The exact same challenges as her.

Railroaded into a sentence she was barely cognizant enough to earn. Condemned for a power all feared, yet none understood. The parallels hurt just to think about. But all the same, she appreciated the company. The soft hums that allowed her to just_ be, _not as a cape or as a victim.

When she talked with Paige, when they were allowed to interact, she felt like a whole person again.

And of course, she suspected the same went for the older woman. Someone who up until now had her career pretty set. A life of comfort and popularity where she could have whatever she wanted. Really, the teenager barely believed she had met let alone befriended The Canary, someone girls her age had once fantasized about growing up to be.

Yet here they were.

Trapped. Alone. Forgotten.

No… not anymore.

Not as long as they had people willing to fight for them.

Taylor's dad, he had given her the strength to face this even before she met Paige. But now, what was once a kindling ember had grown into a bonfire, a warmth nestled within her that refused to die out in these harsh times.

Ironically enough, she doubted Paige had someone like that.

Fame and fortune did little to attract those who weren't interested solely in those two things. People just plain did not care for the woman behind the name. Only the tragedy of her fall and whatever money they could make out of it.

'And that's why…' She curled around her friend's shoulder protectively.

Her sudden bout of clinginess did little to dissuade Canary from continuing with her song. It was beautiful. Beautiful as no other voice had any right to be. Perhaps as a side effect of the woman's power.

Not like anyone would ever appreciate it, ever again.

Parasites and freeloaders.

But that was okay. Paige was better off without people who wanted to use her for their fifteen minutes of fame. Because she now had someone who understood, someone who felt the way she did. The same fear and misery.

'Birds of a feather flock together' as the saying went.

And that's why she would stay by her side. Become someone her new friend could rely on. Because that's what she needed. What they both needed. In the back of her mind, Taylor understood that this was hardly an appropriate way to approach Paige. That she barely knew the girl. And… she didn't care. She had wanted to be a Hero, once, and now there was a woman that needed her help right in front of her.

Taylor knew what she had to do.

'No matter what. You can count on me.' She vowed silently. There was no other way things could turn out.

-  
**Time until Canary's trial: 7 Days**


	8. Chapter 7

**AN: Merry Christmas, one and all! Welcome to the newest installment of Flask. Following a short hiatus due to real life being a salty bitch and keeping both my co-author and I buried up to our noses in work and college. Yet fear not, for we have finally scrounged up enough time to write you all a nice gift in lieu of Saint Nicholas. Extra long and wordy for good measure.**

**And as the mature and reasonable person that I am. I have elected to lay the blame solely at my good friend's feet while absolving myself of any and all responsibilities. Please direct all angry mail to his account. **

**AtW: It actually is my fault. I had the flu, then a round of tests (my college insists on 4 tests per class plus finals), then finals. I'm quite happy to report I made all As in my classes this semester, but I was not… in the best of places. I deeply apologize and hope this won't happen again going forward.**

**Wyvern: I declare you forgiven of all charges. Let's just hope they do the same for Taylor.**

**AtW: And I hope the readers see fit to shower us in many, **_**many**_** reviews  
"puppy dog eyes"**

**Wyvern: Now onto the show!**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Meetings, Battles, Reunions**

* * *

There was something oddly frustrating about waiting for someone else. It wasn't something Taylor thought she would ever grow used to, even after being forced to wait day in and day out within her cell.

For people, for food, for _news_.

It hadn't exactly done wonders for her patience.

In fact, having guns, metaphorically _and_ literally, constantly pointed at her head had worsened it by a considerable margin.

"Where is she, Dad? I thought she was supposed to come with you."

Danny Hebert scratched his cheek awkwardly.

"She was. But I guess she was… distracted by one thing or another. Maybe a trooper stopped her?"

For as long as he had known _that _woman, Danny had always thought her to be inconsistent. An impulsive child who would do as she pleased, because she wanted to do so, without taking even a moment to think about the consequences. For her or anyone else.

The only person _she_ had ever respected had been Annette. That, or whatever passed for winning in the idiotic situation she had gotten herself in.

"She'll be here." Of that much he was certain.

The older Hebert gave his daughter a once over. Despite no longer having a body, Taylor looked healthier. For the lack of a better term. Far more energetic, at least, than he'd seen her in a long, long while.

There was a bounciness to her, as ridiculous, and on the nose, as it sounded.

Which was why he had felt infinitely worse about having to introduce his daughter to the viper of a woman he'd have to coax out of her very busy life. Likely kicking puppies and burning orphanages while keeping that smug look of superiority plastered across the raging cruelty dancing within her.

'God I hate her.'

"If you say so. How did you manage to bring in such a high profile lawyer anyway? I thought that even Mr. Barnes was… outside our price range." Danny winced at his daughter's comment, something she noticed and tried to amend. "Not that I know you wouldn't do whatever you had too. Just that, well, we, uh, can't exactly afford… much?"

He sighed and shook his head, waving away Taylor's explanation. Danny wasn't bothered by the truth, not any more at least. But this wasn't the place for that discussion. Instead, it was time to continue the time honored tradition of all parents. To bullshit their way out of the poignant questions their children made about their dubious and almost criminal pasts.

Easy peasy.

"She is… an old acquaintance of your mother."

The pink slime rippled in realization.

"Oh! You mean like Lustrum's gang?"

Daniel winced.

Let it be said that, while he deeply loved and cherished all the time he spent with his wife, the same thing could not be said for most of her college friends. Each and every one had been…very vocal in their objections to his and Annette's union.

That and they had once tried to ship him off to Thailand by roofying him and locking him in a dog crate.

'That was fun.' He deadpanned to himself.

"Yes, only they disbanded sometime after your mother and I graduated. Lustrum had gotten too bold. Her… ideals burned too brightly way, way too soon. In the end she caused too much trouble to be left alone. After she was caged, her movement just fizzled out, since more than a few had died fighting cops or were arrested as well. Annette had fallen out of contact with most of them before then, thank god, and the rest is, as they say, history."

Taylor went silent, blessedly not questioning him further.

It wouldn't do to let her hear about her mother's once… sapphic love life. Or how Annette's former paramour was now a psychotic shark of a lawyer who made it her life's mission to destroy as many people with the Y chromosome as possible.

Mostly by suing them into utter ruin.

Fortunately, half of that was just the fact he didn't like the woman and, of course, the fact that she was on their side was definitely a plus too.

But that brought its own share of issues.

_HISS!_

And speaking of the Devil…

"I don't care if he doesn't have any liquid assets. Make him sell his house, his car, his liver. Whatever it takes. But get a settlement out of him."

Danny… wanted to sigh. He wanted to make some noise of complaint, any kind that told the lawyer that she was, at the very least, being too blatant about all _that_. He didn't, of course. Instead, he settled for meeting his daughter's gaze and shrugging.

'Better that she's on our side. Hopefully.' He hadn't even expected that much, to be fair. There had been a non zero chance she'd simply humiliate him and kick him out of her office.

"Ok. I'll see you later Mary-Anne. Just make sure to let Delilah out and change her litter box. Love you, ciao."

"Elizabeth."

The woman tightened her lips at him. She smiled at Taylor, strolling into the interview room like she owned it and cooed at his daughter.

"Taylor, you are just _adorable_. Nothing like the pictures Annette shared with me, of course, but I'm sure you're quite the pretty girl when you put your face on." Elizabeth's smile grew a bit predatory, something Danny had learned to fear. "Speaking of, I heard you're not allowed outside of your cell except for visitation or power testing. Is that right?"

When Taylor looked at him, Danny nodded and, forming a mouth, began to speak in a voice close enough to her old one he was relatively sure only he and Annette would have noticed the difference.

"Somewhat, mam. I'm allowed out for a recreational period every day. With Paige, that is. They, the guards and an escort of at least one hero, takes us to the power testing room and let us just do… whatever."

Seeing his daughter literally shrink in on herself, Danny reached over and ran a finger across the top of her mass.

"The guards were kind enough to let us actually meet in the same room this time." As he spoke, the Hebert patriarch marveled at the feel of his daughter's head. It was like a firm, non slippery mass of jello. A mix of soft rubber and a warm mattress. And, oddly enough, he wanted to hug her like a stuffed animal. "I guess with you here they decided to give us a bit more leeway. Taylor, meet Elizabeth Eks. She's your lawyer."

Elizabeth gave another smile, this one showing flawless white teeth and a hint of the joy Danny had only ever seen when Annette was talking with her. When she walked over, not a hint of apprehension or hesitation in her stride, he even felt a… flash of appreciation for her. And the fact she held out her hand, looked Taylor in her, admittedly a touch odd, eyes, and introduced herself… he forgave her.

For Thailand. Not the crap she'd pulled at Annette's bachelorette party.

That grudge he would take to his grave.

"Hello Taylor. I've waited so long to meet you. My name's Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzy."

'Fuck. If she actually gets Taylor out of this, I'll invite her over for Christmas.'

Taylor was still clearly unsure. Danny could see that much. However, at his prompting, just a small nudge, she formed a hand and shook.

"Hello… Ms? Mrs?"

The lawyer laughed gently.

"Ms. But thank you for asking."

Expanding and contracting slightly, Taylor pinkened ever so infinitesimally. Danny almost chuckled, but didn't want to draw attention away from the two.

'She always was so shy.'

"You're welcome Ms. Elizabeth." The shark pouted, Danny wanted to laugh even more now. "And thank you for agreeing to represent me. Dad mentioned you knew mom? You were one of her friends from when she was part of, um, you know what…."

"Lustrum's crew? Yes, but only back in school. Of course, just so you know, I didn't cut off anyone's genitalia."

"Well, not literally."

At Danny's interjection both women looked at him, Elizabeth with more than a little anger, Taylor with a bit of confusion. Or at least what he thought was confusion. It was hard to make out expressions when all you had were eyes and creases.

'Guess I'm learning Taylor's new expressions after all.' Snorting, he waved them off.

"Relax, I wouldn't have contacted her if I didn't know she would take your side. More than anyone but me and maybe Emma. If Annette had… ever managed to patch things up between Elizabeth and I you'd probably have seen her quite a bit. Suffice to say, whatever bad blood there is between the two of us is on hold. What's important right now is helping you."

He shot the lawyer a pointed look, daring her to disagree.

Frowning, Elizabeth gave a slow nod.

"My problems with your father are irrelevant now. I loved your mother dearly and I will _not_ allow any issues between us to cost you your freedom. No matter what."

Taylor rolled around a bit.

"I… thank you-" His daughter's voice wavered and warped. "Just thank you so much."

She wasn't crying, Danny didn't even know if Taylor could at this point. But, as his fingers stroked her head once more, she seemed to deflate in relief. When Elizabeth glanced at him, more than a little alarmed, he just shook his head and mouthed at her.

'She's fine. Just needs a moment.'

Elizabeth nodded back as she stood up, addressing Tailor once more in a kind, but very carefully not condescending voice. The way she always spoke to Annette when they got together, he realized.

Danny didn't know whether he liked it or not.

"I'll be right back. There's a few calls I need to make. After I am back we can discuss your legal situation and prepare our counter attack. This is definitely better than some of the cases I've won, but there's going to be a lot of hard work ahead of us."

Exhaustion, frustration, pure, unabated stress.

All of it… slipped away.

It wasn't a promise of victory. Not quite. Danny would have been suspicious if Elizabeth of all people had given one, but she was confident and that was a good start. More than that, he knew she could pull it off. So, as she gave his daughter a private moment, Danny promised himself that he'd go out of his way to make this work. Bury the hatchet. And not in her back.

"Taylor, are you going to be ok?"

The bubblegum mass wobbled a little, at the moment about the size of a beach ball, and eventually a mouth split it in half.

"I think I will be. Eventually. But…" Taylor sounded so vulnerable. "Do you think we _can_ win this? It just seems impossible."

Danny shrugged.

"I don't know."

He watched Taylor ripple in surprise.

"But what I do know, is that we will fight." Frowning, he chose his next words closely. "Even over the few days you've been here, the city itself has changed. Out of towners, Canary, politics. It's all come down, hard, and I have no idea how to deal with it."

Frown slipping away, his sadness eventually became a wry smile.

"Though I don't think I have to. There are… so many people, and I don't know how I didn't realize this, but so many people care about you. Zoe made you a care package, I think it was an entire cake, but that's still being looked over by the PRT before they ok it, Anne is taking a week off of college to come visit, Kurt and Lacey basically took over my office at the Union and haven't stopped working, Alexander beat up a Merchant who tried to start trouble with some of the guys, Alan flat out took your case on pro bono, I've been getting calls of support, offers of donations, and I think the Go Fund Me for your legal defense is up to thirty grand."

Nodding, he wiped a few small tears from his eyes.

"And your mom's old friends, every single one of them, has done what they could." Swallowing, he took a deep breath before continuing. "Elizabeth isn't cheap. Her usual clients are very, very rich women. The kind that can throw a million dollars at a case to just make it go away. And she flew me back up here from Boston."

Waving in the vague direction of the door to the interview room, he finished up.

"There's a lot against us. Machine politics, fear, paranoia. But there's just as much fighting for us. Random strangers, friends… what might have been family, they're all coming out to defend you, because they believe you're innocent. So can we beat the system? I just don't know. And with that said, I think we've got a damn good shot Little Owl. A _damn_ good shot."

Having said what he needed to, Danny fell silent. Taylor, for her part, didn't say anything either. All she did was roll over to his hand and prompt him to begin patting her head.

About five minutes later, Elizabeth returned to the room; once more ending a call as she did so. Smirking, she strolled over to and dropped down into a cheap plastic chair with the kind of grace Danny knew was practiced.

'She still pulls it off though.'

Acceptance, if only grudging, was polite.

"So, what's the plan?"

His question was answered a flourish.

"We start at the beginning, find out if her opponents actually like torturing little girls and if not see about convincing a jury that they do anyways." Two tape recorders were then produced. "I use these because digital records can be altered and copied far more easily. Now, Taylor, with your explicit permission I would like you to tell me everything related to your current situation, and I do mean _everything_. It's not going to be pleasant, and I'll do my best to ensure anything you don't want coming out at trial doesn't come out, but if I'm going to do my job I need all of it. Every single act, word, and rude look that's been sent your way."

Elizabeth handed one of the tape recorders to Danny.

"And that one will be for you. Keep it safe." Both adults turned to look at Taylor. "Before we begin I'd like to make a few things clear. One, I am on your side. Regardless of whether you committed a crime, regardless of the fact I think you did or not, or whether you hurt anyone or not. My job, the oath I swore to keep, is to defend and represent you to the best of my ability. I am on your side. Not the court's side, not your father's side, not my firm's side. I am working for _you_. There'll be some paperwork for that, but do you get what I'm saying?"

Taylor shivered before she responded.

"But Dad's on my side too…."

Danny would have gloated if this wasn't so serious, forgiving Elizabeth didn't mean he liked her. Instead, he simply chuckled.

"Of course I am baby. But she's a lawyer. It's her legal duty to protect you, do what's in your best interests even if I disagree." He awkwardly shuffled in place. "I doubt that'll happen, but, the point is, you're her client, not me. And that means certain things will need to happen and be discussed when I'm not around. Parent-Child privilege is only somewhat protected."

A nod was the reward for his troubles. It was all Danny could do not to sigh.

"He's not wrong. And speaking of privilege, Attorney-Client has very few exceptions, most of them focused around me helping you commit a crime. As I assume you aren't planning to take over the city…?"

At Elizabeth's pause, Taylor let out a tinkling laugh - it was as if crystals were bouncing off one another and sounded odd enough to get a blink from both adults.

"Well Ms. Elizabeth, I might be planning on taking over the city. You feel up for that?"

When the lawyer gave an exaggerated shiver, Danny actually wanted to hear her answer.

"Hardly. I work seventy hour weeks as it is. Can you imagine the amount of paperwork you'd have to do? I like you Taylor, you're cute. But not cute enough to convince me to do _that_."

They all shared a chuckle, Danny speaking next.

"So, Taylor, this is important. Do you want me in here while you speak to Elizabeth? When you talk about the… bullying." He cursed himself for how his voice wavered. "I understand you might not want to discuss it in front of me. And you don't need to. Because I wasn't paying enough attention to you, I screwed up. There's no way I can make up for that. So don't feel pressured to tell me yes just to make me feel better."

"Will you…." Taylor rolled around a bit, even bumping into his leg. "Will you please stay Daddy? I don't want… to talk about this. But I want you to be here, if I have to. Please?"

"Of course." Danny tried to hug his daughter, grunting a bit when she hopped on top of his leg. "I'll never abandon you again. I promise."

Despite the annoyance he saw in her eyes, Elizabeth gave them their moment. Sitting in silence as he and his daughter bonded for a short minute. However, he could see this was getting to her.

'I wonder if she only sees Annette in Taylor.' He shook his head. 'I suppose it doesn't really matter anymore.'

And, as Taylor began to speak, it really didn't. When she mentioned the pushing, the ruined homework, the ruined clothes, the occasional fights where she was pounded into the ground, being humiliated, vicious rumors being spread, being harassed by boys around the school, the multiple email and social media accounts filled with the vilest abuse possible, of the months and months and months of all the physical, mental, and emotional abuse a damaged, deranged little girl could heap upon her….

Oh, and the Locker, of course.

Of how she was shoved into rotting, rancid sludge, psychologically broken, and then everything that came after it.

Theirs was a long, unpleasant discussion indeed.

But, it should be said, that neither Danny nor Elizabeth balked. They most definitely flinched or paled at the worst moments, Danny's own self loathing and guilt gnawing at his chest with each new horrible moment.

Sitting there, unable to do anything but listen, and watching his baby girl slowly melt into a puddle, literally as her story progressed, was undeniably the single worst moment of his entire life.

But, even as he felt each new torment like a brand on his back, Danny refused to stop listening. This was the first step. It was going to be painful. But because of this, Taylor _would_ be free.

They would make sure of it. 

* * *

"Coms check. Aegis, reporting green."

The team's voices echoed over the earwig Emma was wearing.

"Gallant, reporting green."

"Browbeat, green."

"Kid Win, coms are green."

"Clock Blocker, I'm green."

"Vista, all green."

She licked her lips.

"This is Diamond Dust, all green on my end, over."

The tension was building under her skin, the urge to turn. To just sink into that state of perfect invincibility, of perfect _clarity_, and leave the blood and adrenaline and weakness behind.

There were men sitting next to her. Men she knew and worked with, yes, but they were men. And these were not the soft, gentle, passive men her father was friends with. No, each and every one was capable of extreme violence. One of the troopers racked the slide on his side arm, the clack of the metal making her flinch. She wanted to transform.

But it wasn't time yet.

"Wards, Team Three, you're five minutes out. You're cleared to go non lethal if you see weapons and retaliate with all necessary force if attacked. Captain O'Shannassy, confirm your rules of engagement."

"This is Black Bird, non lethal and only escalate if needed. Keep the kiddos intact and make sure my boys don't need to see the good doctor today."

"I'll take that as confirmation captain. You've hit the three minute mark, you're now officially in the AO. RoE apply, weapons out. Good luck and Godspeed. Commander Diaz over and out."

Ants were crawling in her skin, glass was raking across her nerves, she was almost hyperventilating.

"Doors open! Move people, move!"

Emma's eyes closed and she grit her teeth.

"Wards, we're behind them. Fliers, up and at it!"

_CRUNCH!_

Her foot struck the ground. _Hard_. Diamond was already replacing skin and her mass doubled. And everything became… smooth.

'Low.'

Moving instinctively, she shifted her body weight and pushed forward.

Nothing changed, the large, dilapidated house they'd pulled up in front of was still blasting a terrible song and the stink of rot and garbage was cloying. None of that mattered, there was a mission. The troopers with her mimicked her body language, her instincts told her that, and so she focused as she kept pushing ahead.

Coming to the back of the house, she sent two pulses across her coms.

Three came back.

"Lieutenant, we have a go ahead."

"Understood mam." Their voices were low, his was as thick with tension as hers was calm. "Should we breach and clear, or do you want to take the lead?"

He was tense, there was stress in his body language. Just enough to make him sharp. And that was something Emma knew from experience. Still, there was no need to risk their lives when they had a perfectly good battering ram for the job.

She was talking, of course, about herself.

"I've got this one. I'll go in through the window. Stand by with the flashbangs then breach the door. Remember, we're here to send a message."

The men all relaxed a fraction before forming up. Emma just smiled.

'Left window. Draw attention.'

Emma didn't bother with a rock or knocking. They had a warrant for this raid and shock would minimize casualties. Her fist was the first thing through the window, soon followed by the rest of her body as she crawled over the windowsill.

She didn't know what was funnier. The complete gobsmacked look some of them wore, or the ones that were seemingly unaffected by a statue made of diamond suddenly punching her way into their living room.

Probably thinking they were seeing things.

Feeling cheeky, Emma gave the group a friendly wave, her polished face a mask of politeness as she dragged herself upwards.

"Why hello there! I'm Diamond Dust, a Ward, and you're all under arrest. Please do not resist."

There was a silent beat as her ultimatum sunk in, followed by a junky with more pockmarks than face jumping right at her with a switchblade in hand. The man lashed out repeatedly, the sharp blade merely glancing off her chest with all the effectiveness of a spoon. Half a second later, there was more shattering glass and a trio of flashbangs flew into the room. Diamond opened her mouth and closed her eyes, the massive explosion only slightly rattling her and leaving a small tingle in her ears.

'Ugh…' She shook her head, light refracting inside of her body. 'I hate flashbangs.'

When the flash was gone, the statuesque teen turned to deliver a haymaker against her assailant, his shoulder bending and twisting into an unnatural angle as her diamond fist barreled through muscle and bone easily.

All too easily.

With a scream of pain. The merchant fell in a heap into the ground, allowing Emma to step over him and towards the other gangsters, who remained stunned by the blast of light and sound.

One pulled a pistol from under their shirt, which she promptly jerked away and crushed before giving the pesky criminal the same treatment as the last. Dropping him to the ground with a dislocated joint.

'Those movies made stuff like this look so much more exciting.' She sighed.

It wasn't like they could hurt her anyway.

Done with her job, the Merchants either unconscious or subdued, Emma just turned to the back door the troopers were stacked up outside and ripped the handle off the door frame.

"I'm not feeling anyone else. The house is clear."

The troopers filled the room and quickly policed the Merchants. All told, their catch was half a dozen of the groaning sacks of shit, making the raid a rather wonderful success.

"Everyone ok? No injuries?"

The lieutenant cleared his throat.

"Your suit, mam."

"Oh." There was a slash mark across her chest. _Right_ across her chest. "Thank you." Emma shrugged. "But it's not like it's anything other than diamond right now. I will get a jacket before I turn back, though."

For her, this confidence was normal. When she was like this, at least. Memories of her being jittery in the squad car, being _unnerved_ at the men around her, just seemed silly now. The troopers weren't like the thugs she'd just pounded, more than that they were her friends. Men who'd risk their lives to save hers without a second thought.

'I really should remember to treat them better. They don't deserve the cold shoulder.'

"This is command to all teams, Gallant is pinned down and requesting immediate support. PRT reinforcements are en route, but can anyone provide assistance?"

Emma smiled and brought a hand up to her ear.

"Command, this is Diamond Dust. The Lieutenant is making a final sweep of the property now but my target is secure, over."

"Fucking shit snacks! That's… that's a whole _room_ of drugs!"

She studiously ignored the exclamations of the rookie trooper.

"Yeah, you get used to it James. If you get it on your uniform they put you through super detox and make you strip down naked so they can do a full body cleanse. Damn junkies cut it with everything, even tinker byproducts. Had a guy who lost his nervous system cuz he tripped and fell into a pile of it.'

'Ah, the good sergeant putting his charge at ease.'

"This is command to Diamond Dust, please render assistance to Gallant and his unit at site three, repeat he is at site three, the sewer maintenance tunnels. Over."

Mentally repeating it eight times, she nodded.

"Confirm, site three, sewer tunnels, at Peabody and Dunkell street."

"Confirm."

"I'm on my way, over and out."

She waved at the team, even now hog tying the junkies, full body cuffs were the only way to keep them under control, and they waved back.

"We've got it under control mam. Head on out, back up should be here in a minute."

There was no time for more words, just a snapped salute and she was out through the remains of the front door. Emma's leap cleared the sidewalk and had her hitting asphalt. Her next step punched into it.

Most Brutes had powers that worked a certain way. She did not. Her raw strength was just that. So when her foot dug into the ground, she _bounded_ forward_. _With great, massive leaps she pushed off against the ground, tearing divets into the road with each "step", and threw her body forward at a pace that would have almost gotten her a Mover rating for that alone.

'Up.'

Her instincts told her to jump, so Emma did just that. Flying up into the sky, she angled her body just so and came down right where her mental map told her she should be.

'It's a good thing Miss Militia had us memorize all the roadmaps.'

"This is Diamond Dust, I'm on the scene."

And what a scene it was.

"Hey you!" She screamed at a junky.

Said junky stumbled back in surprise. Emma wasn't about to let the opportunity slip past her fingers. Instead, she rushed the man before he could aim at her with his pea shooter and smacked his face with an open palm.

The following crack was music to her ears.

There wasn't anything quite as therapeutic as feeling a scumbag's nose bend awkwardly as you smashed their face with a hardened diamond palm and watched as they dropped to the ground like a sack of very stinky potatoes. Or at least, that's would be Emma's answer if someone ever asked her.

A hail of bullets pinged across her body, bouncing off her hardened skin harmlessly.

She sighed, her combat precognition little more than an annoyed buzz in the back of her head. And one that was vaguely promising that there was "a threat, somewhere".

'Utterly useless. But not as useless as those idiots.' She'd been standing there, letting the Merchant's light her up while she mused. 'Those people just don't learn. Do they?'

With almost contemptuous ease, the young woman jogged through the barrage of projectiles. She got just close enough to throw a palm sized capsule towards the group of haphazardly armed merchant. A grenade, of course.

No.

Not _that_ kind of grenade, no matter what a few dark fantasies may have suggested.

Rather than go kaboom and send assorted body pieces scattering to the wind, the object erupted into a giant ball of pinkish foam, which quickly enveloped the gang members before they could run away.

Emma took a moment to appreciate her handywork.

The group of five gang enforcers became glued to the grate of a sewer access entrance, the quickly solidifying foam making them appear like a particularly large ball of cotton candy. Or perhaps modern art.

'Such a pretty color too.'

It reminded her of Taylor, and she almost wished her power told her how to navigate _that_ minefield.

Her earpiece came to life suddenly with Armsmaster's gruff baritone barking orders.

"Diamond Dust, report."

She clicked the earpiece.

"I've cleared the west entrance. There were guards stationed here, but no tinkertech. I foamed them up and request backup."

There was a tense pause before the communicator crackled to life.

"Very well, I am uploading the map of the sewer system now. It seems that the Merchants somehow managed to extend their base all over the city. According to our reconnaissance efforts, they seem to have built a large number of hideouts and chambers throughout the underground tunnels."

She nodded. It made poetic sense, really.

The Merchants were the shittiest gang in town after all, so of course they would be hiding in the sewers.

"I'm sending Kid Win to your position. Wait before progressing further." The communicator went dead before Emma could answer.

The diamond skinned teen huffed in frustration. She understood why, but couldn't help but find it annoying still. A couple weeks ago she had been invincible! Not even Vicky could take her in a fight.

Which in turn reminded her of why she was in such a good mood!

'One day. Just one more day!'

When she'd heard from the Director that they were finally letting her see Taylor, Emma swore she nearly had a heart attack out of happiness. After asking and being denied over and over again by the top brass of the PRT, she was now being given the chance to actually talk with her friend.

About damn time, really!

'I was getting tired of filing my discharge papers.'

Of course, Emma wasn't planning on leaving the Wards any time soon. But as she had been blocked from even seeing her friend, she decided to do some silent protesting of her own to show how displeased she was with their treatment of her childhood friend.

She understood the whys and hows, yes.

But that didn't mean she was fine with them railroading her friend to the Birdcage.

Never in a million years.

The thought of that had kept her up at night, either from nightmares or worrying herself sick, some of them bad enough she'd needed to take her pills in an attempt to stave off the inevitable panic attack.

Emma hated relying on anything, especially medication.

'And that's why I'm a hero!'

Diamond Dust was a rising star amongst the wards, the fact she was an actual model was something that _definitely_ paid off. Someone who had the potential to be the next big hit when she graduated into the Protectorate. Popular pressure was good and all, but it wasn't enough.

So that's why she threatened to leave. And when they ignored her, she filed her papers. Just what kind of hero was she if she didn't do everything she could to help her friend?

Things had been… tense, for lack of a better word.

But it seems everyone finally settled down when they started planning for this mission. Their first one since the Winslow Incident.

After being cooped up inside the Rig for so long, all of them, with the notable exception of Shadow Stalker had been released from their 'medical leave' and allowed to don their costumes once again.

They had even managed to worm out a few extras from the Director, so it was clear she was trying to butter them up. Make sure they were happy and satisfied and hope the others wouldn't get the same idea she did and ruin the PRT's image by staging a walkout.

Now that would have been a nightmare.

"DD, I'm here!" Emma snorted at her nickname, otherwise unbothered by what many thought was a joke about her bust size. "Armsmaster said you took prisoners and that trooper support is enroute. I think Gallant should be here with the rest of the team soon, too."

"You know you're not supposed to use that nickname outside of the Pit." She inclined her head towards the mass of thugs and, at Chris's wince, she chuckled. "I think only you know actually know that's the designation of a destroyer. And while it's amusing, I doubt my publicist would appreciate it getting out."

They bumped knuckles, the Tinker nodding sheepishly.

"Well, you destroyed these idiots, so I still say the name fits. Oh! I've got this for you too." Chris reached behind him and pulled a PRT themed hoodie out of a backpack he was wearing. "The troopers mentioned your costume was damaged."

"Thanks." She slipped the grey, shapeless thing on. "It's not like I have anything to show off when I'm like this." And it was true, she didn't. Her body was milky and off white, not crystal clear, like raw, uncut diamond. Amazonian in shape, or at the very least seven feet tall and built like a linebacker, she still lacked any defining features outside of her face."Still, it's better to not invite disaster. Even if I'm actually almost flat like this."

Her torso was shaped like a bell, widening out to be more of a suggestion of a feminine chest, and her hips were basically straight lines cut into the side of her legs. All in all, she was closer to a sexless, genderless mass of raw crystal than a shiny sex bomb crystal golem, like how _some_ people enjoyed depicting her on PHO.

'Not that I wouldn't totally love looking like that. It'd certainly make marketing easier. And some of those pictures were… most flattering.' Emma firmly blamed the internet for the thoughts that ran through her head right then. Yep. Totally the internet's fault.

"Yeah. I think PR still gives Clock crap over naming himself. But you'd get away with it. You're too well liked not too." Tapping his ear, Kid Win held up a hand. "Bad news, some of the troopers are reporting an invisible fast mover."

**THWOMP**

"What in the Hell was that?"

Emma hadn't jumped, but only because her power had told her it was a 'vague, distant' threat.

"Bad news. Probably that fast mover. When is Gallant supposed to get here?"

"Right now." The flier dropped down beside her. "And I brought back up."

Clockblocker, Browbeat, Aegis, and Vista all appeared next to them.

"Why hello there." Vista made Chris smack himself in the face. "What was that for!?"

"No ripping off Star Wars."

The blonde's tone brooked no argument and all the time stopper could do was pout.

"You at least tried."

Browbeat gave him a small pat on the back before the group coalesced, another loud, echoing rumble sounded in the distance.

"Diamond?" Aegis's question was obvious.

"Definitely hostile and definitely incoming."

The team began spreading out, not even needing the command to avoid clumping up.

"Gallant, Kid Win up high. Kid, you stay up and back, G you're low and scouting. Let me know when you sense their emotions." There was no hesitation, either in Carlos's orders or in the other teens obeying. "Clock, you're with me. Dust, you'll be inside the entrance. If anything slips past her, freeze it. Vista, I want you to drop BB on anything that comes close. After that, pick off any stragglers. Stay loose, keep your lines of sight open, and if it looks like Tinkertech treat it like it's a D weapon."

"Yes sir!"

They all responded, if with varying levels of enthusiasm, and quickly took up their assigned positions.

Thirty seconds later, a loud blast of reality warping and a Dixie horn announcing the arrival of a massive, sparking, almost writhing hunk of mechanical crap.

"Hey you shit fuckers, where the fuck is that shiny cunt!?"

Skidmark, of all people, popped his head out of the _bottom_ of the "vehicle".

"Fuck! Those shit fucks got foamed! Fire up the guns Squealer and double check the sensors! Those boot licking dog fuckers might still be here."

'Well that was fast. I don't think a plan has ever fallen apart that quickly before.'

Prying a loose chunk of brick out of the sewer wall, Emma hefted the chunk of building material and prepared to throw it in an arc her power told her would be 'effective'.

Normally, she'd second guess something so vague.

**THWOMP**

But as lights began to appear across the exterior of the… junk tank on wheels, she had zero desire to test her invulnerability against the rather phallic looking main cannon. A gun that was, even as she stepped out of cover and lined up for her perfect pitch, turning towards her.

"_VVVVVVVVVVVVRRRRRRRRRRMMM!"_

* * *

The Ward paused to take a sip of her water bottle. Her uniform, mostly covered by the large PRT hoodie, was still in tatters and covered with very suspicious red stains. Her hair, normally pristine, was a caked mess tied into a tightly woven bun while her skin was dusted with dirt and what looked like the smashed remains of a brick wall.

Taylor rippled in excitement.

"So, what happened next? Come on, Emma. Don't leave me hanging like this! Did you guys win? Where did that tank come from? Where was the rest of the Protectorate!? I need to know!"

Her friend sighed in exasperation.

Truthfully, she hadn't expected their meeting to go as well as it had been so far.

Just as they had returned from their mission against the Merchant, she had been pulled aside by Miss Militia to let her know that her visit with Taylor had been rescheduled due to unforeseen circumstances beyond their control.

Of course, she took that to mean that the Director and fellow PRT heroes were attempting to keep her from visiting her friend for as long as they could by postponing it. She had been about ready to blow a diamond-coated gasket at everyone involved.

Only for the opposite to happen.

She was given a new hoodie and a bottle of water and then escorted to the max security wing by the older heroine with almost no time to prepare.

'Really… would it have killed them to let me at least get a shower?'

Then again, how would one prepare to speak to a friend they had ignored for months? Who had somehow transformed into a blob of pink jelly only to fight her team and put them through the meat grinder.

It wasn't _exactly_ the easiest thing to talk about.

'Hey, did it feel bad when Miss Militia zapped you with that huge taser?'

'Are you lonely down here in maximum security?'

'How are the meetings with your lawyer going?'

There just wasn't a good way to broach the topic. As such, Emma opted for a different approach. After all, she knew Taylor was a massive cape geek, had been since they were really young. She was the kind of girl who would research local capes extensively, learn as much as she could about them.

Their powers.

Their history.

It was that kind of nearly obsessive compulsion to understand others, learn about them, that made the girl turned slime so special.

She was always looking for a reason to like someone.

As such, the most optimal course of action became clear.

'Vista, Aegis, Gallant… please forgive me.' She offered her friends a silent prayer. Hoping they would allow this transgression to pass unopposed.

"Well, when the brick conked Skidmark on the head, he shot back up into the tank so fast you'd swear he was a Mover. Of course, he, uh, hit a few buttons it seems. Because the whole thing backfired. A _huge_ cloud of soot and dust spewed out of the exhaust ports." She scratched her cheek. "And of course that hit Vista full on. Her hair was blown back and she was black head to toe."

Low, warbly snorts echoed from the twitching blob.

"Oh. My. God. Vista got blacked!"

Emma almost fell over.

"Taylor! You're not allowed to say that!" Of course, she was choking back laughter to. "Mi-Vista is a sweet girl and, oh my god, you should have seen her. The only thing that wasn't covered in ash was what her visor protected. And of course Gallant came in firing. I don't know if he thought it was an attack or what, because he came in _hard_. He practically flipped the thing with his first volley. Aegis wasn't sitting around either."

She ran her hand across her face.

"The idiot barreled into the side of the tank while it was tipped over and started ripping panels off. Of course, when he found one that didn't budge, he punched it. That popped open a back hatch." This time Emma had to pinch her nose. "A glob of oil hit Gallant dead on as he flew in for another strafing run. It knocked him right out of the sky and stuck him to the ground."

"Oof. Was it hot?"

Emma shook her head.

"Nope. Cold. And it was like glue, so sticky he couldn't get out."

"Hah! Cold, sticky, and he was drenched in it right?"

Groaning, the redhead almost told her friend off.

"Taylor, I don't need these images. I work with these guys. Hell, they've literally saved my life."

"Sorry Ems." Taylor had gotten very quiet, something that had Emma sitting up in sudden worry. "I… sorry. It's been a while since I got to really talk, you know?"

The word bit back a sigh,

"Hey now. What's with that? Taylor, are you ok?" Emma pinched her thigh.

The look her long time friend shot her was very much unamused.

"Of course you aren't _ok_." She backtracked. "What I meant was… what do you think you said wrong? I was just... "

"Dragging your feet?" The puddle of pink slime warbled quietly. A whisper that might as well have been a cannon being fired right next to Emma for all the intensity and _meaning_ it carried.

"The jokes, the stories, the hero gossip. This feels like those sleepovers we used to have. Back when Mom was still around…. "

She sighed, deeply, and it was all Emma could do not to try and give her friend a hug.

"Don't get me wrong. I appreciate it. Really, I do! It's just that… things changed Emma. We both have since we grew apart. Just look at you! You became a Ward. A hero. I'm just sorry I couldn't be there to help you. Maybe things wouldn't have ended like this, had I made more of an effort to be with you."

_BANG!_

Taylor jumped away in surprise as the glass panel separating her from Emma shook with the impact of the redheads palms.

"Stop that! You called, you came over, you made every effort you could." Diamond rippled across the redhead's skin for a moment, her tone turning softer. "You know me and I know you. It's ok Taylor. You are… my sister. I love you and I'll always forgive you. But, well, I _forgot_ you. Can _you_ ever forgive _me_?"

"Of course!" A pink tendril slid against the clear dividing wall. "You triggered! I know… exactly what that's like. You needed time to heal."

"And you didn't? Your mother died, Taylor, and your dad was barely keeping it together! I was a Ward for God's sake!" Emma bit her lip. "If I can't help my best friend, how can I call myself a hero?"

There was a tense pause. Neither side wishing to break the silent staredown.

Both girls had always been stubborn, and even though they rarely disagreed when it happened it could take days for their bullheaded selves to come to a truce.

Time they didn't have.

"You're helping me now." Taylor shifted into a vaguely humanoid mass, leaning against the plastic wall of the interview room. "I overheard the guards. They said you were going to resign if you didn't get to see me. That you picked a fight with the Director over her refusal to let us talk. Ems… you, I, we stumbled. But we're still friends. No matter what."

"Promise?"

Emma hated how weak she sounded, how needy and vulnerable.

"Promise."

She almost wanted to cry.

"You know." The Changer took a deep, shuddering breath. "Aegis, after Gallant got him, tried to pick him up. And of course, I charged in too. I, um, I drove my fist through the front of the tank and got blasted back into the sewer entrance. When I came too, Aegis was coated in a bunch of blue goop. He was floating in the middle of the air and 'snort' burping bubbles. Rainbow colored bubbles that burst into song when they popped."

"Heh. You guys wear cameras right?"

"Yup!"

Popping her P, Emma couldn't help the giggle that slipped out.

"It's all on video."

Taylor's laugh was a bit odd, it sounded like small crystals tinkling across each other. Emma had… heard that her biology was completely non standard, but it seemed quite odd that she'd produce that noise.

"Hey Taylor, I'm curious. Why do you sound like that? Armsmaster didn't tell us much about your powers, and the archives are mostly scientific gibberish."

Taylor rippled in curiosity.

"I don't know much more now and I barely remember anything about that day. When I got into that fight it was mostly by instinct. All of what I can do now is stuff I had to relearn from the ground up."

"Like what?" Emma tilted her head.

"Speaking, for one! Just a few days ago I needed a board to talk to people, but here I am! Paige, I mean Canary, helped me a lot."

The mention the other maximum security prisoner brought Emma up short.

Intellectually speaking, she knew that Tailor had interacted with the singer turned parahuman. After all, there wasn't much else she could have done stuck inside a cell. So of course her friend would find a way to break the ice and get the older girl talking.

That's just how Taylor was.

However, that caused rather complex feelings to arise within the Ward.

Happiness and joy that her sister in all but blood had found someone to interact with. Envy that it hadn't been her who Taylor had been able to confide in. Anger at the PRT and the Director for having kept them apart for so long. Disappointment that the little blob of slime had grown to see someone else in such a fond light.

And much, much more.

"You seem to look up to her. The two of you can't have known each other for so long."

The pile of gum rippled in amusement.

"Well, it's not like we had much to do other than talk. The guards are starting to wise up to my pranks too! So I can't just jump scare them like before."

Emma sighed.

'Right. I forgot about that.'

"She's innocent, you know?" Emma blinked, turning to look at her friend.

"Innocent? I thought it was… rather clear what she did."

"They were fighting, both of them had been drinking. He cheated on her. More than once, I think. Things were said, things were thrown. When he called her… more than a few names, she told him to go fuck himself." Emma flinched.

"So he maimed himself. Bled to death." Her mouth was dry, Taylor didn't know how ashen Emma'd become.

"When they arrested her, she was crying. Trying to stop the bleeding. I… have trouble controlling my powers when I get sad or angry or scared. I'd be afraid all the time if I had her's."

It was the sort of tragedy that seemed to surround parahumans. Just like being shoved into toxic waste and rampaging after having a breakdown trying to escape. If anything, it put into perspective why Taylor was so fond and defensive of the older woman. Because, by all means, they could have swapped places with how similar their situations were.

Believing that Canary was innocent. The she would make out of this. It gave Taylor hope that she could do the same.

'If Canary made it. Then so can I.'

However… that also meant that if Canary were to be sent to the Cage, the same would be expected to happen to Tailor. The mere idea of that igniting a furious blaze within Emma. The sort she hadn't known since that fateful night at the alley where she triggered.

"I'm not saying I agree." Emma held up a hand to forestall Taylor's objections. "You didn't kill anyone, no one was even injured, not after Panacea saw to them. And more than that, this was during your Trigger. But… I'm not saying she should be caged either."

Emma sighed.

"I don't want you in there." She gestured at the wall between them. "I… want to have coffee with you."

She sighed at how pathetic it sounded.

"Do you remember… about a month ago? We met up for a day. The whole damn day we just wandered around the Boardwalk. And we got coffee at the stupid little store…."

"The one with the bright green bunting, I remember. You said it wasn't even Thanksgiving and they were advertising for the holidays. Heh."

"Yeah. But we got that… chai latte? It tasted exactly like Christmas. And it was so cold out it was perfect. I want to do that again."

Taylor rippled, her body shifting and Emma gasped.

"Taylor… you look like _you_."

It wasn't perfect. Her friend was still pink and she lacked… distinct features. But Emma knew what Taylor looked like and right now it was unquestionably _her._ It was clear the girl was moving forward with her powers.

Her hand touched the glass panel separating them. The movement was clumsy and mechanical, as if she had to figure out how to do each motion separately and then how to string them together.

It looked awkward, and more than a bit disturbing.

But it was still her hand. Her friend's hand reaching for her.

"Emma. I promise you, I'll beat this. I'll get out of here and we'll get coffee and we can go shopping and everything will be ok in the end."

She choked up, unable to speak. Emma eventually nodded. Taylor smiled, even if it was a tad horrifying to witness, and the redhead smiled back.

"So, you never did tell me. How did you handle Skidmark?"

"Heh. It wasn't us." Emma shook her head. "Armsmaster came roaring in on his motorcycle. Drove his halberd into the tank like it was a freaking lance! Easily one of the coolest things I've ever scene. Of course, that wasn't the end of it. It's gun thing charged up again and fired, blowing out the back half of it, but Armsmaster just leapt off his bike, dodging the blast, and unsheathed his back up weapon before slashing the turret's power cables in half!"

Taylor giggled.

"Sounds like he was a bit of a show off, huh?"

Emma giggled too.

"Yeah, it was pretty wild seeing him jump all over the place like that. But when Skidmark popped his head up and started waving a gun around, Armsmaster just punched him in the face, hauled him out of the hatch, and shoved a foam grenade into his stomach. When he kicked the idiot into the wall it exploded, keeping him contained, and so Armsmaster just dropped another couple of grenades into the tank. It was _easily_ the coolest thing I've ever seen."

This time, Taylor laughed uproariously.

"So Emms, it sounds like you've got a crush on your boss!"

"Oh God no." She shook her head like a dog, desperate to get the image of her kissing the stoic, exhausted, amazingly socially awkward cape out of her mind. "That's disgusting Taylor. Just… eww. He's older than my dad!"

"Don't worry, lots of girls like older guys. It's perfectly natural!"

Flipping her friend off, Emma just shook her head and ignored the small blush on her cheeks.

She took a deep breath. Reaching forward with her own hand, laying it flat against the glass, just opposite to where her friend's had just been.

"I missed you." She confessed, silently. As if admitting to a grave secret. Emma had danced about, all but admitted it. But now, in a quiet, tiny voice, she finally said what they both knew.

The pinkish humanoid smiled lightly.

"I know. I missed you too."

The two of them were silent for a while. Letting the moment wash over them. Neither knowing how to break the silence. Or if it should even be broken.

In the end, they didn't speak. they didn't need to anymore. The two girls, shoulder to shoulder, simply sat there. Their promise was a silent one, a slow mending of a wounded bond. But, most importantly, it _was not broken_. Taylor wanted her sister and Emma needed her best friend.

They would make this work, no matter how hard it might be.

* * *

**Time until Canary's trial: 3 Days**

* * *

**Ending Note**

**AtW: Hey guys! I promise you, I just wanted to write 3k words of Taylor and Emma making out (and maybe Vista joining in). However, Wyvern mentioned things like "they're teenagers, you pervert" and "that breaks the entire flow of the chapter". I, calmly and reasonably, attempted to assure him that it would be tasteful (read: extremely graphic) and in no way (immediately) get his account banned. However, he is a prude and small children run away in fear when they see his face. Love you Senpai~**

**Wyvern: 'sigh' The things I do to keep people entertained.**

**AtW: For real, he is a great co-author and the delay was… expected but unplanned.**


	9. Chapter 8

**AN: Helllllllo people! This is Alvor, taking the lead on this author's note, and I just want to say you're glorious and beautiful and you all ignored me. "Sniff, sniff" I'm so lonely~**

**Wyvern: Ignore him. He has gotten spoiled since we started posting these chapters.**

**AtW: I FEAST ON YOUR REVIEWS!**

**Wyvern: But of course, how else can we tell when we do something right? So far your feedback has been positive so we shall continue on our merry way. Only… this time we got some action for you guys. Just not the kind you were hoping for! And just in time to give you guys another Christmas present!**

**AtW: Piggot is a grown woman, hardened by years of low level warfare. Her agony is delectable~ Also, Coil gets another scene next chapter, so I hope you guys are ready for him to drop the video of Taylor and the Locker and all kinds of other dirty laundry!**

**Wyvern: Indeed! So I hope you guys strap in and get ready for the ride! Now on with the show!**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Breakdown**

* * *

Vista felt the skin of her arm crawl with dread, hairs standing on end as if exposed to the furious cold of winter, mind struggling to process just how badly the scene playing out before her was going.

Canary's trial was being broadcast on live TV after all.

Why wouldn't it be? It was the most relevant case involving a cape, not to mention a Master, occurring in the contiguous forty eight. With the lack of action from the major players, and no other scandal to parade throughout the nation, the media had jumped into making the trial as big of a blowout as they possibly could.

And the worst thing was that people were playing along with it.

The prosecutor.

The judge.

The jury.

Even the poor woman's defense was barely holding out against the stacked deck, their appeals and arguments falling on the deaf ears of people who seemed like they would rather stage a live execution rather than a trial.

Seeing something so clearly, so blatantly wrong made the long tenured Ward feel like throwing the remote at the screen as the judge denied yet another plea to remove Canary's muzzle. To let her give her version of events rather than the watered down description she'd been permitted to give in written form. In an utterly boring monotone, the court stenographer read out what sounded like involuntary manslaughter _at the worst_, which the prosecution immediately leapt on and began to spin as premeditated murder.

But that had been days ago.

Now it was all over.

She was alone in the pit. Well, not really alone. Chris was in his workshop and Emma was working out, but it was just Missy sitting in their common area. Running a hand through her hair, the superheroine wanted to scream in frustration.

This was bad.

Really, _really_ bad.

Canary's trial had exploded all over the media and the internet. People were invested, had stood up for both sides. The whole of the country had been divided into camps who agreed with her imprisonment and those who opposed it in equal measure.

It was, for lack of a better term, a _mess_.

"And of course Flask just happened to explode too." Missy sighed. She didn't blame Emma's friend, she didn't even blame Sophia. All the signs were there, Shadow Stalker wasn't mentally healthy. She'd "possibly" tortured and killed people as a vigilante and that was a line a Ward was never supposed to cross.

Vista wasn't being a hypocrite, she'd do either, even both, if she had to. But killing someone was always the last option. There were simply too many risks when taking lethal action. The stress could cause a trigger, killing someone's friend or lover could cause a trigger, simply coming at someone with the intent to kill could cause the whole situation to spiral out of control.

Villains understood it, Heroes enforced it, even civilian cops were more… patient nowadays.

But not Sophia. Never Sophia.

It never seemed to dawn on the girl the importance of restraint. That a single misstep could lead to the creation of something truly terrible. Something that could not be reasoned with or stopped.

Monsters like Crawler.

Mad Men like Heartbreaker.

Juggernauts like Lung.

People had a hard time believing it. But at one point in life, those very same monsters had been nothing but people. Normal people like those you ran into the street. Only they had gone through something terrible and come out warped for it.

And Sophia had just went ahead and created one.

Taylor Hebert.

Flask.

Even now the names left a bitter taste on her tongue.

A girl not much older than herself was put through the proverbial grinder by a Ward. A mentally disturbed Ward, of course, but the mistreatment had gone on for long enough that it caused an innocent girl to become a creature the likes which could make even the above mentioned monsters hesitate.

Not that she would ever voice such thoughts near Emma.

The girl seemed convinced that the little blob of pink slime could do no wrong, and was instead a victim of the system. Something that Missy didn't even necessarily disagree with. But, at the same time, a single, damaged girl had gotten a combination of powers that might make her utterly unkillable.

She… was not afraid.

Wary. That was a good word. The bruises around her neck had since vanished, yet she could not help but feel the pressure building, remember when her vision grew dark, and remember what it felt like to slowly have the life squeezed out of her body whenever she thought about it.

Helplessness such as that left a mark, after all.

"But it doesn't mean she needs to be caged."

The Baumann Institute was built to hold the world's greatest threats. The most reprehensible of criminals. The scum of society. So, no matter how much her past encounter with Flask haunted her, she just couldn't see her as being worth shoving into society's trash can.

Nor could she Canary being sent there just to prove a point.

'Yet here we are.' She snarked sardonically, watching as the jury went into a rather long winded explanation for their unanimous and completely expected decision.

In the end, the two cases were joined at the hip. This one was seen as a bellwether for the next. And with how… political everything had become, it seemed like it would just end up being another scared, messed up kid sacrificed for an uncaring public. One more sacrifice, one more condemned innocent.

"If they wanted to look good, why couldn't they lynch a few Merchants?"

"Who's getting lynched?"

Vista stiffened.

Well… speak of the diamond coated devil and she would indeed appear.

Though her clothes were covered with a sheen of sweat, the heroine known as Diamond Dust seemed to care little as she strode into the recreation room with a gym bag slung over her shoulder.

"Hey Emma. And only Canary. The sentence came through, she's being caged."

There was no gasp, just the sound of someone doing their best not to grind their teeth into nubs. Missy was just glad her friend wasn't yelling.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. CNN is 'discussing' it now. Do you want to listen or…."

"No thank you." The redhead's voice was tight, but, again, Missy was just glad her friend wasn't diamond.

"Do you want to get a shower first or talk about this?" This was a risk, getting clean could give Emma a chance to either decompress or stew in her own anger. "It's your choice, but I'm here if you want to talk about this."

The older girl was tensing up. Her shoulders were shaking. Fists balled up so tightly Vista was sure they were a second away from becoming hardened stone.

Sighing, Missy got up from the couch she'd been sprawled out on and walked over to her teammate, her smaller hand tentatively wrapping around Emma's. Her skin felt feverish to the touch, yet her sweat was cold.

Whether from fear or anger, she didn't know.

"Shh, shh. It's not gonna be the same, okay? You told me Taylor has an actual defense planned, right? Public opinion is turning her way and this is gonna burn itself out soon enough…"

"It's not that." The other girl mumbled, bringing Vista up short.

"What do you mean?"

There was a tense silence as the taller of the two struggled to gather herself, her face contorted into a thoughtful frown and eyes pinned on the screen as live footage of Canary being escorted to an armored van, a simple prisoner transport with the emblazoned logo for the Baumann Institute on the side of it.

The Birdcage didn't even use mundane transportation.

"It's just… Canary… She's Taylor's friend."

"You told me about that. I'm sorry it had to be this way. She will be devastated."

"I won't."

It was a whisper.

A silent admission of guilt and shame which sounded more like a cannon, echoing in Vista's ears as she took a step back and looked. Really _looked_ at her friend.

Contrary to before, when she looked tense and ready to pounce at the screen in anger. Now she seemed calm and focused. Her breathing was even, making it seem as if Emma had just let go of a large burden she'd been carrying.

"What… do you mean?" Missy licked her lips. She could tell this was something serious.

Emma's eyes became narrowed, focused much like the edge of a blade ready to cut through an enemy.

Never leaving the face of the woman being carted to her doom.

"Because it means Taylor and I will be… together again." Vista tightened her grip on her friend's hand, as much to encourage herself as she did for Emma. To goad her into continuing.

"She was always there, you know? Even when I became a Ward and we grew apart, she still tried. Every day… at least. Maybe a phone call or a visit or even a simple email. Always something. But when I visited her…"

Emma hissed out a frustrated breath.

"You should have seen how happy she was, Missy. The way her eyes lit up like stars when she told me about Canary and what they've done together. I was so scared…so terrified… that I was gonna lose her." A smile slowly etched itself on her face. It was bitter and hollow. The sort that spoke of something_ dangerous_.

"But now. Now… I know I have her back. We can go back to how things were before, just Taylor and Emma against the world."

'That's fucked up.' Missy didn't voice her immediate thoughts.

She wouldn't judge her friend. Rather, she couldn't. Hell, she liked to pretend that her parents were dead. Missy was Vista more often than not, she lived her cape identity. Never mind the fact that she hadn't slept at home in nearly a month.

"So, you're telling me you're glad your friend will be more… focused on you. That's normal." Emma snorted. "Hey! I'm serious! I mean, we're never normal, capes that is, and if maybe being a little possessive is the worst personality quirk you get out of it, I'd say you're miles ahead of most. I mean, you're not happy Canary is being Caged. Just that your childhood best friend will come back to you."

The vaguely affirmative noise her friend gave her encouraged the blonde Ward to keep pushing.

"Well, I think you should talk about it."

Emma blinked at her.

"Oh don't look at me like that! I overheard Gallant when he was talking about some of his psychology courses. Something about wanting to use his empathy more effectively."

"Missy… I love you like a sister, but were you stalking Dean?"

Blushing and looking away, the girl in question adamantly denied the accusation.

"This isn't about me, this is about you. So, Emms, Taylor's your best friend, right? And basically the first girl around your age, except for your family, to try and actually help you."

"Yeah." The redhead shrugged. "Something like that. But, well…."

"But you fucked up. You pushed her away without meaning too, because you were hurting and you didn't know how to deal with it."

"I wasn't sleeping. Most nights I'd have panic attacks. I couldn't… I was…."

Sitting down on a stool, the blonde buried her in her hands and trailed off.

"Embarrassed?" Gently, Missy rubbed her friends shoulder.

"I missed her _so much_." Emma wasn't crying, she didn't do that much anymore and Missy could understand why. "I want things to go back to what they were. It was just so much easier. So much… happier."

"You know that can't happen right? What's past is past, we can only move forward."

Grunting, Emma shook her head.

"More wisdom learned while stalking?"

"I don't stalk Gallant! And no. That one was from my therapist."

Missy was _not_ pouting. She was most definitely not doing that. But she was giving her friend the stinky eye.

"Look, the point is I can't fix my shitty home life, you can't take your mistakes back. Even if you had a power that lets you travel through time, you couldn't change the fact you still made those choices. So don't try to change it. Accept it and let Flask know you want to build a new relationship."

"If it was that easy, I would." Sighing, Emma took a moment to order her thoughts. "But I can't do anything to help her. At _all_. She's going to be railroaded and I can't do anything."

"Well, I assume you still have your resignation papers drawn up?"

"What are you saying Missy?"

"What I'm saying, _Emms_, is that you wouldn't be the only one walking out. I've got your back as do Chris, Carlos and BB. I also _highly_ doubt that Dennis or Dean would leave you hanging. Just 'cuz we know you, and we know how important Flask-Taylor-is to you, we wouldn't let her be caged. Not if there was anything-"

**BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK!**

Wailing, the security alarm filled the room as feedback from a microphone announced the situation.

Vista felt her spine go ramrod cold.

"All personnel report to your duty stations! Lung and Kaiser have engaged each other in the Train Graveyard, repeat Lung and Kaiser have engaged each other. All capes report to your mustering point and standby for orders!"

Before Vista could even turn, Emma had vanished down the hallway.

* * *

As it turns out, there was something worse than prison.

Solitary.

It wasn't something that Taylor had to deal with often, not when she was being constantly watched after all, and there would be always a friendly guard or cape nearby for her to exchange a few words with. Of course, that was only valid when you didn't wear out their good will with pranks.

The kind where you scare the living daylights out of armed personal.

As punishment for her various misdeeds, Taylor had been grounded so to speak. Moved to another side of the cell block. Away from her 'cellmate'. That meant no contact at all with Paige and it was driving Taylor up the walls with restlessness.

Why had they chosen today of all days to get pissy at her?

And just when she had finally gotten to talk to Emma after being kept apart for so long. There was so much she wanted to tell her friend. So much she wanted to share. Questions she wanted to ask that simply hadn't crossed her mind at the time. Though, that wasn't entirely her fault. Sitting in prison had given her a lot of time to think, but it hadn't exactly improved her social skills.

Still… there were things Taylor was writing down, metaphorically of course, to ask her best, she hoped, friend the next time they spoke.

What was being a Ward like?

Were they treating her well?

For the first time in so long, Taylor was looking forward to speaking with someone. Of course Paige was included on that list. How cool would it be if she convinced the PRT to let the three of them hang out together?!

Ah, but that only reminded her that she was in solitary.

And what was up with that?!

Shouldn't they have done that the very first time she pranked the guards? Or was there some sort of 'three strikes and you are out' kind of rule?

Nobody told her!

As such, the small puddle of pink slime was left to stew in her own frustrations with the parahuman incarceration system for the best part of the morning. Nobody had talked to her. All her previously set appointments had been cancelled, and since she didn't have any meetings set with her father, Taylor was left completely isolated.

It was eerily quiet. The way one would expect in a horror movie. When you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

Not that Taylor had a heartbeat anymore.

Or ears, for that matter.

'Semantics!' She grumbled. Taylor started climbing the far wall, spreading out to feel the corners. 'There should be a join around here. No way they'd not have cameras inside this thing.'

Practice makes perfect and Taylor had, had plenty of time to do just that. Now she knew exactly what each crack, imperfection, and micro fissure felt like. What was damage from wear and tear, what was just a normal imperfection, and what was a hidden seam.

'Aha! Gotcha!'

She didn't damage the camera, that would be rude, but she did slide a few micro filaments into its now slightly bulging compartment and began to… molest it.

'How… lewd.' She'd blame the japanese entertainment industry for this one.

Indeed, her mind was still bouncing to the most "teenage" place possible. On top of that her mood wasn't _totally_ stable, even if it was improving.

'Probably just shock. Or trauma. Or it could be that I cracked a little.' Taylor gave a little mental shrug. 'But I am rather glad there's no real mind readers out there. Otherwise, well, if this was a manga I'd have a nosebleed right now. Oh! This is new. What do we… lithium? Batteries?'

Feeding in a bit more mass, she actually began to pull apart a few of the components she was finding. Mostly because it tasted cheap. Something else she'd found out was that the PRT did _not_ do "lowest bidder" when it came to anything. _Especially_ not their cells.

"Oh, that feels loose. Is this a bug? What the Hell?"

A small black wafer, about the size of the nail on your big toe and with a micro battery, something she only recognized from pictures online, and a bit thicker than two quarters put together had come off the camera.

'Wow, my cell was bugged? The Hell was with that?'

This was _most definitely_ not PRT tech. Not only did the whole thing taste different from normal PRT issue stuff, but you don't exactly need to steal your own information. So either someone had bugged every camera down at the cells. Or they had bugged hers specifically.

Which was… way too creepy.

She was a teenage girl. She needed her privacy! Especially considering the tender moment she just had with Wall-Kun.

'Yeah. I'm going crazy.'

Never mind the fact she was in prison. And a blob of slime. But again, semantics.

"Hey, anyone up there?" She formed a mouth and hollered for anyone nearby. "Can you guys see me? I need to talk to someone."

This was clearly above her paygrade, even if it involved her, considering she'd had her powers for all of less than a month. Anyone with the resources to get this kind of device, a clearly foreign piece of technology, _inside_ a cell on the Rig was dangerous.

Never mind the fact they might have gotten it there _because_ of her.

"Hey! I know you guys should be listening in! Do I need to break out to get your attention?"

**BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK!**

Just then, the alarm sirens started howling unholy Hell. A muffled voice repeating some sort of message she couldn't make through because of the thick glass. Really, the alarms were so loud she could feel the vibrations through the walls!

Hang in there, Wall-kun!

"Come! On! If you don't send someone down here I'm gonna start eating your cameras and gun turrets!"

New vibrations, much, much weaker, began to travel through her cell. Slinging from the wall to the ceiling, before finally landing near the window. Taylor watched as the large double doors down the hall hissed open and in marched a brand new pair of guards for her to annoy.

'Finally! Fresh meat for the grinder!'

"Oi! C.O.! I found something you guys are gonna want to see. Tell Armsmaster I found something real shiny. And while you're at it, what's up with that alarm?"

Sure, she was being pushy, but she was also attention starved and bored. And pissing off authority figures was basically the sole reason teenagers existed.

The pair trudged along until they were next to her cell, just barely within sight. Nothing unusual about that. Rather, it had become something of procedure since she started playing tricks on the guards. They would watch her through the reflection on the opposite cell window.

Denying her the chance for a juicy jumpscare.

More importantly, they weren't talking.

"Hey, guys, you just gonna ignore me? I promise I won't do the thing with the tentacles again for, like, a whole week! I just need some news here."

"Something big is happening back in the Bay. Director is calling for all hands on deck."

"Define 'something big'." She glared at the trooper on the right, more annoyed than anything else that they were teasing her. "Look, that was the carrot. This is the stick. I watched the Thing, like, twenty times as a kid. I'm almost ready to start doing the Dog Scene."

"Fuck." Taylor cheered when the man swore under his breath. "Ok, ok. Just… for the love of God don't do that when I'm on duty."

"Suck it up and shut up trooper. We're not supposed to talk to the prisoner during an alert."

Taylor's head snapped around. Her eyes bulged and she forced her face against the view port.

"I don't know your face and I don't know your name. But I do know how you walk. So listen up. I have been down here, _by myself_, for at _least_ a day. I haven't been able to talk to Emma or Paige or my dad or my lawyer. I am _bored_. So tell me what's going on or by the great golden balls of Zion I will make you shit yourself in fear."

"Uh…."

The thought she'd gone a bit too far did flit through Taylor's mind. But the combination of finding something so important, the alarm, and having been in solitary confinement meant she really didn't quite have the right mindset to care. More than that, she could even pick up motes of stress hormones flitting through her cell. And _that_ meant she was about to get what she wanted.

"Alright! Alright. I swear I'm noting this down though. Look, there was an alarm. The Undersiders hit an Empire dog fighting ring and freed all the mutts there. Then a new group, from out of town, hit an ABB brothel and freed the girls being held there. And, well, Hookwolf responded to the dog thing and Oni Lee responded to the brothel."

"So there's a big time cape fight going on down there?" Taylor was slightly confused. "I get why that might be cause for an alarm but why did it take so long for anyone to respond? And why did you guys then get sent down here to keep an eye on me, but _not_ to tell what was happening?"

"Well…." The trooper on the right spoke up. "The Undersiders ran towards ABB territory to shake the Empire and the Travellers ran towards Empire territory to shake the ABB. You follow?"

Which was the equivalent of two trains packed full of explosives colliding.

In another word. _BAD_.

"Fucking Hell. Is it a full on gang war out there right now? How far has it spread? Are there any civilian casualties? Is my dad ok!?"

"Woah there! Calm down kiddo. We don't know about your dad but Lung and Kaiser haven't gotten involved yet. The biggest concern is if someone tries to bust Canary out now that she's been sentenced to the Cage…. Fuck. I shouldn't have said that."

Taylor blinked, feeling the words wash over her mind.

The meaning.

The realization.

The reason why they had decided to isolate her this very afternoon.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Taylor's body fell apart and sank into a shapeless puddle on the ground, the runny liquid staining the glass of the window.

There was silence.

Not the same.

Not nearly the same.

It was crushing and cold and wrong. As if she were sinking into the depths of the ocean and there was no way to escape.

Canary was going to the Birdcage.

Paige….

She was going to be _caged._

Unbidden, memories played out before her mind's eye. A collection of the short, precious time she had spent with the older woman. Their shared fears. Their trust and _need_ to confide in someone. Someone who knew what they were going through.

… The promises they'd made to reassure each other that everything would be fine.

Gone.

Broken.

No…

Separated. Betrayed. Hurt.

_ANGRY._

"**LeEh**_**T**_**. Me**_**eE**_**e. **_**OUT!"**_

Her voice was broken, jagged. Taylor's mind was hardly better. A massive, blackish pink fist slammed into the cell door. Matter pulsed and writhed, the tiniest flaws in the construction of her cell door was filled with _angry_, rage filled flesh.

Both troopers yelped and scrambled back.

Earlier, they'd joked about her not being up to snuff against a genuine horror monster. Yet no amount of binge watching fake monsters could prepare someone to face the real deal. A mass of liquid sizzling flesh eating through the floor.

The walls.

And the window which separated them.

All of it was built to withstand someone with a rating of Brute Seven doing their damndest to punch through. Advanced polymers, hyper efficient kinetic energy transfer mechanisms, even good old steel reinforced concrete failed. As the teenaged girl leapt at them the two guards stumbled back, their world consumed inky darkness.

* * *

When it came to serving as Director of ENE, Piggot learned that there were slow days and bad days. The slow days were those where her only preoccupation was writing reports and sending them on time, days were she could comfortably lounge around her office and possibly have something resembling satisfaction or, dare she admit, _peace_.

Slow days also served as an omen.

A prelude.

Brockton Bay wasn't a slow city. It wasn't stable or easy to handle. Not with so many capes running around giving her migraines. So, whenever she was having a slow day, whatever enjoyment she would take from her activities was tainted by the knowledge that soon the other shoe would drop and the city would explode.

Not literally, of course. Though there had been a few close calls….

But if those had taught her anything it was how to read the tides, how to watch for the signs and to never be caught off guard when the wave comes washing over with wrath of biblical proportions.

The last time this happened, Lung had swept in and become the leader of the fledgling ABB.

Allowing him to set up shop and build a power base had been a truly catastrophic failure on their part, one Emily hoped she had learnt from.

Thankfully, it hadn't been as bad as when Kaiser had taken over from All Father, that had required Alexandria herself to put Iron Rain down. But the city had been reeling for days. Even now, there were scars from that fight, chunks of debris that had never been worth clearing out. But that was just how the city was.

The Bay had long history with disaster.

From the Butcher and this Teeth. To All Father's reign and even a few close calls with outsider dangerous capes. Truly, there must have been something well and truly wrong with the water for this city to attract so much trouble.

Fortunately, things seemed to have calmed down somewhat since their operation against the Merchants. With Squealer and Skidmark out of the way, and Mush in hiding, the gang had all but fallen apart at the seams without anyone to pull it back together.

"Mam." Her secretary stuck his head in the door. "Reports are coming in from the BPD. Merchants have been sighted at the scene of at least three fires. They're investigating it as a case of mass arson right now. All three locations were suspected ABB drug houses."

"Has Lung gotten involved yet?" Piggot's kidneys twinged. "What's the ABB's response?"

"So far nothing mam. We're not sure word has gotten up the chain of command yet. This all happened… seventeen minutes ago."

That was good. Maybe the city wasn't about to turn into a literal war zone on live television.

"Send out a team of troopers to assist the BBPD and the BBFD at each of the burns. Get Armsmaster and Triumph on the streets now. I need to make a call."

Emily was thinking, plotting some would say, and they wouldn't be wrong. There were so many things to consider right now. More than just the gangs and their wounded egos. Canary had been sentenced as of five minutes ago, she wasn't even in the prison van yet, and her supporters were on the verge of rioting. If the gangs were about to have a tiff, and it did seem like the Merchants were going to try and go out in a blaze of glory, then they'd be under threat too. Doubly so if it _actually_ became a riot. And that was a situation that had a non zero chance of developing at the best of times.

Punching in a phone number she knew from memory, Piggot had Thomas Calvert's voice telling her "Hello" in fifteen seconds.

"I hope you're ready Thomas. The Merchants just shit the bed, what's left of them at least, and the ABB are going to want blood. Get your team and Miss Militia ready to deal with Oni Lee. There are three fires, I'll have the details sent to you, and the fire department might be under threat even if they're keeping the city from burning down."

"Yes mam." The black man's smooth, collected voice almost reassured her. Almost.

"Good. I'll update you with further instructions if needed."

She hung up without saying goodbye, something told her this wasn't going to be the last time she needed the special response team today.

"Mam!" Her secretary popped his head back in, more urgent this time. "We have reports coming in of two shootings in Empire territory, an attack on an Empire dog fighting ring, and an attack on an ABB brothel!"

'What.'

"Elaborate?"

"Witnesses report that the Undersiders carried out a raid on an Empire safe house, their giant mutant dogs were identified, and freed several dozen animals. Suspected Merchants attacked multiple E88 officers in broad daylight, at least four deaths are confirmed. And an out of town group of capes known as the Travellers have attacked an ABB brothel and freed the women there."

Two thoughts ran through Piggot's mind.

'Shit' and 'this is the day we get walled.'

"Activate all members of the PRT and the Protectorate. All active duty and reserve personnel are to be called in. Order the BBPD to ready SWAT teams. And sound the alarm."

Piggot now had a very, very limited window in which to act.

"I want our communication office to issue an EAS warning for gang violence. Citizens should move off the streets and remain in their homes until the situation is under control. Contact the BBPD and issue an order to evacuate civilians around the affected areas. We want to minimize casualties as much as possible. It is no longer a possibility, but a guarantee that Lung will rampage."

Quickly leafing through the available roster, she decided who would have the best chance of snuffing out this issue in the womb. Bringing up speed dial once more, she had her most… efficient asset on the line.

"Armsmaster, while Miss Militia aids Calvert on the Merchant situation, you will be in charge of the ongoing efforts to contain this emergency. If the Undersiders and the Travelers goad the gangs into all out conflict I want you on top of it. We don't want another Pueblo situation happening."

The man on the other side of the phone grunted resolutely.

"Good." Hanging up, she turned to her secretary and snapped out a few more orders.

"Contact our intelligence assets. I want all the information we can find on the Travellers. We strike hard, we strike fast and stop them before they or the Undersiders bring out the big players out with these little raids of theirs."

"Understood. Director, are we to assume to both groups are working together? It does seem… coincidental, that two groups we have little to no interaction with would choose the same day to pull off plans so similar and nearly perfectly simultaneously."

Emily bit back a barbed response. Coincidental? Hardly. Whatever the two groups were up to, their plan was simple to deduce. Steal as much as they could, hit known spots controlled by the gangs and then goad the larger groups into fighting with one another so they could vanish by using them as a smokescreen.

No, there was nothing coincidental about this.

And that worried her more than she cared to admit.

The timing.

The planning.

It wasn't the usual M.O for the Undersiders. From what reports she recalled of their activities, they operated mostly during the night and preferred to avoid unnecessary attention. This plan was much too bold for such a skittish group.

Which meant there was someone else behind the attacks. And there was only one villain in the city with the balls to do something like _this_.

"Director!" One of her aides barged in.

'Now what?!'

"We've received eyewitness reports of Uber and Leet at the Boardwalk. Hostage situation."

And just like that her screen became filled with new horrors. Well, perhaps less horrifying since the hostages in question were trapped inside what looked like see through red and white spheres while the above mentioned rogues dressed up like they were half their age.

"What in the nine Hells am I looking at?"

"It's pokemon, I think…" The aide… helpfully provided.

"Enough." Emily wanted to scream. "Matthew!" Her aide snapped back to attention. "How much is left in the discretionary budget?"

He chewed his lip for a moment.

"About… two million? Maybe two point two?"

Piggot grunted and picked up her phone. Pulling up her contacts list, she dialed Faultline. Three rings later and the woman in question picked up.

"Hello Director Piggot."

"I'll pay you two million dollars if you get your team on the streets. Lung and Kaiser are about to duke it out on the docks and I need bodies. In fact, you'll be keeping more bodies out of the morgue and I'm willing to go to the Chief Director on my hands and knees to beg for however much firepower I need to end this. Buy me this time, and I'll make sure you get your money."

Faultlines voice came through, perfectly even and polite.

"I apologize. We're not taking contracts at this time. We've been warned that today is a good day to stay home. Have a good day, Director."

When the mercenary hung up, Emily saw red. Almost hyperventilating in sheer, unadulterated rage she ground out a few more orders.

"Triumph. Challenger. Have them deal with Uber and Leet. I want them _smeared_ across the ground. Assault, Battery, and Dauntless are to hit the Empire capes. Foam grenades. Stun them, slow them down, break them up. Single them out and then have the troopers bring them in. Thomas and Diaz are to detach units to assist with this. Norwood is to liase with Triumph and Challenger. Phineas is to take his men and set up a perimeter around the protests. That will not be permitted to escalate. Thornley is to provide support where needed. I want Velocity scouting for Oni Lee and Lung. When they move, we need to be ready. Move people! I have calls to make."

This time she didn't even need to pull up her contacts list. She knew this number by heart.

"Chief Director? I have a problem."

"I am aware. This city wide disaster has made national news, Emily."

"Mam." Her secretary stuck his head back in her room. "The protests have turned violence. Gunshots were reported, we think Merchants, and the protesters attacked them and the police when they tried to disperse the crowds."

"Did you hear that mam?"

"I did."

"And you can't send me anything?"

"I've sent forces from New York to Boston, the Butcher has gone on a rampage and there's already double digit casualties. Eidolon is currently keeping the Yangban from starting World War Three with the Indians, Legend is in Africa putting down an S class threat, and Alexandria is in Boston herself. I will put in the request, but I anticipate at least two to three hours before reinforcements could arrive."

"Dragon? The Guild? Anyone?"

"Make the request, but that will still take time. Try and co-ordinate with your Brigade. They should be more willing than not to help. Have you contacted your local mercenary company?"

"I offered them two million."

"I see. I will dispatch… three companies of troopers. They should be there inside of an hour and I'll put out feelers for any other support we can send your way. Alexandria, and any volunteers, will be sent from Boston as soon as they're available. Until then, so long as you don't go HOSV, I'll keep you from being Walled."

"Thank you, mam."

"Emily… if things get too bad, secure your people and pull back to the Rig. Any VIPs should be taken into protective custody too. We'll get you out of there. We don't abandon our own."

Piggot swallowed, her throat suddenly so dry it hurt.

"Understood, mam. I'll be staying."

"I thought you'd say that. Godspeed and good luck."

She hung up.

Piggot punched in Rennick's number.

"Where are you?"

"In the armory, mam. I'm putting on a vest and a sidearm right now."

"Good." Piggot gave herself five seconds to plan. "Get the Brigade on the line. Tell them they've been drafted. We need to muster everything we can, _right now_. Take them and use them to deal with the scraps of the Merchants. No more shootings, no more fires. We have three companies of Troopers en route from New York, you'll have command when they arrive. I'm going to get Guild and state support. We need the National Guard."

"Understood mam. I'll be at the field command center in the Docks - South. Anything I know I'll pass on up to you and I'll be on secure satellite line three."

"Excellent. Stay safe Rennick. If you die I'm pissing on your grave."

She knew the soldier on the other end of the phone would crack a grin that turned his ugly face into a horror show.

"And if your kidneys finish you off I'll dig yours up and fill your casket with dog shit."

He wasn't with her at Ellisburg, he'd been in the hospital recovering from a nail bomb to the face, but Rennick was solid. And more importantly, damn good at his job. She could trust him.

"Shut up and get to work. Piggot out."

"Director! Emergency phone call from the Mayor's office, there's been a kidnapping! The mayor's niece and his wife and daughter have all been grabbed by the ABB! SWAT teams are responding, but we think Oni Lee is there."

This time, Emily was ready.

"Contact Velocity and Calvert's team. I want all cameras we have available combing the streets for Oni Lee. If you find him, relay his position immediately. And if they need the support… patch them through to me."

A sharp pain nearly caused her to double over.

'Calm down.' She took deep breaths.

In.

Out.

She could do this. She was doing this. Lung and Kaiser would get bored soon enough. The Merchants were hanging by a thread and help was on its way. All she needed to do was keep the damage down until then. She would have to cut corners and let some undesirables live to heist another day, but it was the least of her worries.

All she had to do was wait.

**BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK!**

**BRAYNK!**

"What is that alarm?"

Obviously, she knew what the alarm was. It was the internal alarm that indicated a security breach.

"Flask has broken containment! Two guards are down, but alive. She's… eating through the hull of the Rig!"

With a click of a button, the feed on her screen changed, camera feeds flickering before her eyes until she finally found the familiar mass of darkish pink pushing herself through a containment wall of pure metal, unnatural pupiless eyes glaring menacingly through the camera as it shook and died.

Her form, while far from flawless, had become clearly humanoid, with warped asymmetrical limbs jutting out like meshed cables from a melting torso. Her feet leaving jagged lines along the floor as she pushed through a wall.

Collapsing the ceiling behind her and destroying the camera.

A small tremor shook her desk. It was enough to shake her out of her reverie.

"What is her predicted path?"

"If she continues going on a straight line at this pace, she will cross the boiler room within two minutes."

"Deploy all available security squads! Lock the other prisoners down and prepare containment foam grenades. Do _not_ let her out! I need to call Dragon and the Governor."

Emily took a deep breath.

"Get her under control. And find out why in the Hell she just now decided to give us trouble!"

There was one asset she had left, her fingers dancing over the buttons on her phone. Her eyes cut to her computer screen, reports coming in as Fox and CNN tore ENE apart. The faceless visage of the inhuman mass of parahuman power tearing through a squad of armed guards with ridiculous ease.

"Director, Flask's ETA to the boiler room just dropped to 2 minutes!"

There and then. Emily made a decision.

'It can't get any worse unless we get walled off. And if that happens, it won't matter.'

She dialed the number.

"Mam?"

"Aegis, are the Wards assembled?"


	10. Chapter 9

**A.N. Merry Christmas and Happy New Years! Here's chapter nine for all you wonderful folks. Consider it our gift to you. Surely you'll give us something back, yes?**

**Wyvern: We of Wyvern Entertainment and Media have been hard at work in order to provide you, our faithful readers, with the goodies I am sure all of you are eager for. Such as a fresh chapter.**

**AtW: With lots and lots of angst! And suffering! And Coil reminding people that he was a veteran PRT operative and commander. As for future plans, expect Paige, Taylor, and Calvert to be the major PoVs for the next couple of chapters. Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it!**

**Wyvern: Now, onto the show!**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Brockton Asunder (Part 1)**

* * *

"Black Bishop takes White Pawn."

_Urgent news!_

_A sudden attack by a group of villains known as the Undersiders have rocked Brockton Bay. According to inside sources, the group busted an illegal dog fighting operation lead by the Empire 88, a local gang reputed to be a known associate of the infamous Gesellschaft._

_The assault resulted in a chase leading the Empire parahumans into the territory of another local gang, the ABB, controlled by Lung, the Dragon of Kyushu._

"White Rook takes Black Knight."

He chambered a round in his rifle, a SCAR-H, you rocked a high caliber round when capes were possibly involved. Looking up at his squad, he saw hard eyes and grim faces.

"We've got this. Remember, Oni Lee is a teleporter. Watch your spacing, don't cluster up, and put him in the ground. If you kill him before he arms his suicide vest, we should be fine. Stay out of the light and make sure you can always put something between you and any possible explosives."

"Yes sir!" His squad snapped out the response he'd drilled into them. It wasn't just the words. The absolute obedience was good, of course, it'd keep them alive out there. But it was the blood lust, the willingness to do violence that was needed too.

_Quaffing a glass of wine, something expensive and old enough that he really wasn't experienced enough to fully appreciate the flavor, he pressed a button on his desk even as a hand slid into his pocket and pressed a button on his phone. The same signal was sent in two timelines and a team moved._

_Three thugs, in ABB colors, whom he'd paid extremely well would lead their fellows towards the Mayor's building and…._

"This is Echo Squad. ABB forces are sighted at the mayor's office, requesting-shots fired! Shots fired! The ABB are making an attack on the mayor, we need backup now!" The worried voice of a lieutenant called out over the radio of his self which was in the field.

_Breaking his own arm was a small price to pay, even if he'd had to shatter it in three places in a "fight" with a mugger, to ensure he'd be able to utilize all of his resources._

"Black Pawn takes White King."

He was burning… most of his assets tonight. Between the utter destruction of the Merchants, and they would be dead or gone by the end of the night, and ensuring the ABB and Empire clashed, well, it was a good thing he could always recruit more moles.

_He poured another glass of wine._

_A fair beverage. The sort meant to be opened only for special occasions. Its rich smell, taste, the history which went into manufacturing it were, by their own virtues, a treat for a man as entrenched in his need for control as Coil._

_Having long since discarded his guise as Thomas Calvert, the one who now led a squad of PRT Troopers down the streets of an alternative timeline version of Brockton Bay, the villain marvelled as his plans and manipulations finally reached their crescendo._

_His Rook had taken the fight to Empire._

_His Bishop was leading the asian gangsters around by the nose like children._

_There was no need to employ his Knight as of yet, nor there would be if things went according to plan. He had already exhausted many of his pawns just to make sure the set up would be absolutely flawless._

_Oni Lee's distraction should be concluding around three… two… one…_

It had been easy enough to find good locations to set his men up in. There was plenty of rubble, more than a few abandoned buildings, the fourteen men that made up the Special Response Team had the entire block caught in a crossfire. Thankfully, they had enough trigger discipline not to open fire when a gaggle of mostly naked women rushed down the street.

"What… the fuck?"

Calvert sighted one of them in his scope, noticing a flash of ink on their back.

"Ready up, check the dragons on their lower backs. That's ABB property running down the street. Mullaney, get the fire department on the radio. Let them know they need to get those girls out of here before the gang shows up."

"Yes sir!"

Less than a minute later, when the girls had been wrapped in fire blankets and stuffed into every vehicle that could be spared, three black SUVs came screaming around the corner. It was like watching a clown car unload as gangsters spilled out of them.

"Boss… I'm counting… twenty three."

"Roger that. I've got twenty three here too."

Tobias and Antoun were the best eyes he had.

"Those things hold eight each though."

"Scan the sky line. Oni Lee is out there, waiting for our response."

The BBPD was already telling the thugs to get the fuck out of there. When one of them pulled a gun on the cop, Calvert drew a bead, took a slow, steady breath, and squeezed the trigger.

"Nice shot boss! Fucker didn't even scream!"

There was no need to respond, the loud bark of his rifle was soon followed by thirteen others. It only took a few seconds and every thug there was on the ground and dead. His first kill had, had his brains scattered across the pavement and two more had similarly been left bleeding and perforated.

"Eyes out for the teleporter."

His warning was soon followed by two of his men jumping out of a third floor window, a loud explosion rocking the night as they hit the ground hard. Thankfully, both men rolled with the blow and were up and moving soon enough. Loud burst of automatic fire raked across the street, only catching ever growing flickers of ash and the occasional blossom of fire and shrapnel.

Thomas was calm, though, and simply relaxed.

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and the world narrowed to a pinprick and his sights. Backlit against the sky, wreathed in an aura of palest, glowing silver Oni Lee was slowly rising into the sky.

Three rounds leapt from his rifle, barreling through the sky with the intent to do harm.

That leering demon mask exploded into bloody chunks before the man's suicide vest sent shrapnel raining down on the road beneath them.

The sudden displacement of air behind him actually made him smirk.

The brutal, violent bark of a shotgun and the splatter of warmth against his back almost made him smile. Two more barks, just to make sure, followed.

"This is Calvert, Oni Lee neutralized. Squad sound off." He gestured for his shotgunner, a young eighteen year old with a brutal streak a mile long, to check the suicide vest and make sure it wasn't about to go off. Hearing the brat celebrate his first cape kill, Thomas simply reloaded his gun. "Remember rookie, Lee was a mover. They only counts as one."

_Oni Lee's abilities were bothersome._

_Useful, yet an unnecessary annoyance given the man's perchant for resorting to murder as his first, second and third options. Coil's Brockton Bay had no need for a mad dog who would just as soon slip his leash than he would heel when commanded to._

_The ogre obeyed only one master._

_And that monster was otherwise preoccupied._

_In both timelines, Lee was killed. In both timelines his squad survived intact. Soothing to his pride, however, was the fact the one where he was present went without any of his men actually being injured beyond a few broken bones. Thomas had lost a hand to Lee in the other timeline, much to his chagrin.  
_

_Fortunately, this timeline where he was nice and cozy wasn't the one he planned to keep._

"_Black King takes White Bishop."_

_Coil allowed himself a smirk behind his mask._

_Some said that the King must lead from the front, while others considered the importance of such individual to be much too great to be risked in the front lines amongst the crossfire, where only a moment of hesitation could lead to death._

_Of course, that was meaningless to him._

_He could lead from the front while staying safe within his secret hideout._

_Pressing another button, he confirmed the next move._

"This is Zulu actual, we have eyes on Merchants. They seem to be approaching the protestors. Wait, that looks like… we have a fight! Shots fired, shots fired! Protestors are clashing with Merchants in the street by… Ashton dr and Prescott!"

Gathering his team in the street, he had them police the dead thugs, securing their bodies and weapons, before mounting up. It would pay to be ready to respond to the next emergency.

"This is Command, Uber and Leet have taken hostages! Repeat, all units near the Boardwalk, Uber and Leet have staged a… pokemon? Yes, a pokemon themed attack. All units in their vicinity respond!"

_Frowning, Coil sent out rapid fire commands to his mercenary forces and double checked the hot keys he had for his phone. That way his other self would be able to punch in the orders without looking suspicious._

"_What are these two idiots up to? This isn't part of my plan."_

"This is Zulu actual, the protestors have gotten violent. They… oh god, they just _lynched a Merchant_, that guy was…. We can't hold them back like this, permission to use foam grenades and pepper spray?"

_Blinking, Coil pulled up the plan Accord had prepared for him. This wasn't… diverging, per se, but he'd need to activate a few contingencies. If the protests got too bad it could cause more trouble than they were worth after all._

"Bravo actual to command, we have eyes on the Undersiders. They're heading away from the Medhall building with Hookwolf, Crusader, and Alabaster in pursuit. There are multiple non powered members opening fire, repeat, we have eyes on gun fire."

_Coil pressed a final button. His personal forces were already mobilized, either to protect his territory or simply to keep a watch on his cute little minions scattered across the city. But the Undersiders and the Travellers would need support to escape._

"Papa three to command, Papa one is down and Lung is active, repeat Lung is active! The Travellers are fleeing Lung and are taking attacks. We have… mass casulaties and troopers down. Requesting any support available!"

_Sighing, he almost regretted the waste of resources. Unfortunately, Lung was just too paranoid and too powerful for anything but brute force to keep him under control._

"This is Sere, I have the location of Mush. He's making an attack on an ABB safe house from the look of things, requesting support. There are… multiple civilians in the area."

_The new cape… was most interesting to Coil. And perhaps the AAR would shed some light on how the man thought and fought. He made a note to remember to acquire that file unredacted._

"Sierra actual to Command, we have an unknown cape here. He's… shooting spinning saw blades of some kind and attacking anyone that he sees, requesting back up. Containment foam and small arms are doing nothing!"

A pregnant moment passed.

"This is SRT Actual to Command, tasks completed, awaiting further orders?

"Boss?" Calvert turned to look at his second in command. "What are we doing?"

_He chewed his lip. Something had happened, perhaps it was time…. Checking a special file he had on his computer, Coil pulled up the bug he had in the PRT security system, watching as the camera feeds flickered through his screen until they settled on a familiar mass of pink slime tearing her way out of max security._

"_Security breach in progress. Black Queen is on the move. Well done Taylor."_

_Coil did so love when a plan came together.  
_

"We have a hostile cape to neutralize. We're no good against Lung and the idiots playing games probably won't even injure anyone. Let's help Sierra." Pulling up his radio, he got ready for round two. "Sierra, this is Calvert, what's your location?"

A burst of static came across the line.

"Calvert, this is Gordon. We're down by the hospital, two blocks north of it at the three way intersection. We need backup now. The kid is starting to move and we can't get to the wounded civies while he's trying to break through our line."

"Understood. We'll be there ASAP. Just keep his attention and hold out." He turned to his squad. "You heard the man! Let's get moving!"

Their van rumbled to life and rubber squealed on asphalt as they pulled onto the street. It was time to hunt.

_His arm twinged and Coil smiled as his minions escaped, Kaiser arriving just in time to keep Hookwolf from being pulled apart by Lung. The real fight was starting, his new recruits were slipping free from the PRT, and he was inches from victory. It was… delectable. Pressing one final button, an asset of his unleashed a very, _very_ important video on the world._

_Alongside all the wonderful politicking and dirty laundry he'd been able to dig up on Bad Canary's trial, too. Two birds, one digital stone. He indulged in another maniacal laugh._

* * *

The world seemed to come into focus as Taylor pulled herself out of the rubble, chunks of plaster and concrete dissolving into her ever swelling body. The rubble was all that was left of the PRT trooper's desperate attempt to bury her in debris. Amusingly, they'd only tried to drop half the Rig on top of her head after their foam grenades dissolved inside her body before they were able to detonate during their initial confrontation.

It was so easy.

Taylor lashed out and smashed a dozen more projectiles out of the air.

All too easy.

Before she had been helpless, confused and scared and unwilling to fight, she now had a reason to crush them. More importantly, she had an understanding of how her powers worked. She had come far from the small blob of slime the PRT had captured that day at Winslow. And she was sure most of them were regretting having captured her.

That's not to say Taylor was happy with what was happening. She, too, had regrets.

**i WIll hELp yOu**

So many of them.

**PAigE is mY FRieNd**

Monumental ones even.

**wE WiLl MaKE iT tOGetheR**

'Why had things come to this?'

Anger boiled within her, her body rippling and writhing in physical response to her emotions, and her mind flickered red. Even as she smashed forward, blazing red and all consuming in her rage, she tore through another wall, tendrils forming along her sides to pull her through the wreckage of the ruined storage room and into the hallway, where half a dozen troopers awaited her.

"Why did you have to do that to Paige!?"

"Why did it have to be my friend!?"

"_**WhywhywhywhyWhywHYwhyYWwhy?!"**_

One of the armored men shouted something at her. She didn't care to pay attention. What she did care about where the brute grade tasers some of them carried. The others lugged around what she knew to be containment foam dispensers or conventional rifles.

The former was a potential issue.

The later… not so much.

As she'd come to learn, there was little that could actually harm her. Her flesh could take anything that passed for kinetic damage and simply consume obstacles or traps. Containment foam was about as harmful as soap bubbles to her.

Electricity, on the other hand…

The prongs of the tasers lashed out, filling the air with a pregnant hum only she was sensitive enough to truly appreciate. It didn't matter. She deformed her own body, large rents appearing where the weapon simply passed through. Lashing out with a mass of cement, she knocked the electrified wires from the air and surged ahead.

Washing over them in a massive torrent, she didn't even need to strike them. Her raw body weight bore down on them and slammed them into the ground.

Dissolving their armor, and some of their uniforms, she destroyed their weapons, shrugging off the slight shocks of their electronics, and pushed forward.

Staying in movement, Taylor dragged a few chunks of war material behind her and simply consumed it as she went. Recessed turrets popped out and fired at her, she lashed out with tentacles and dragged their housing out of the walls. Troopers, and sometimes armed staff, fired at her. She left them naked and weaponless. The only thing even made her stutter was when one of the labs sealed itself off by throwing a container of chemicals at her.

When the glass bottle shattered on the metal floor of the hallways an intense, toxic chemical fire sprung up. Something, Taylor thought it was perhaps a few flecks of micro material, told her she _could_ eat the chemical fuel, but that the burns she'd sustain simply wouldn't be worth it. Taylor still let out a petty laugh as she launched a turret through the lab's window.

It soon became apparent that the staff was trying to head her off.

Prevent her from reaching some sort of destination.

Between the sealed hallways, armed squads chasing her down, and the absurd amount of ruined toilets she'd run into, it became clear to Taylor that the Protectorate was trying to keep her from reaching an easy exit.

After all, they couldn't stop her from leaving if she were running inside the pipes in the walls.

It wouldn't be pleasant by any stretch imaginable. But it would have gotten her out of the Rig fairly quickly. And it's not like she hadn't eaten worse.

"**GRAH!**" She screeched as a group of scientists tried to attack her with what looked like molotov cocktails.

They dropped the things and were suddenly far more concerned with getting away from the fires than pursuing her. Harumphing, Taylor simply blasted through toward the nearest restroom. Barrelling through its locked door, the faux wood splintering under her assault, she almost screamed in frustration. Quick drying cement had been used to block this set of pipes off too. And while that wouldn't be an issue if she had time, trying to digest something so dense and so air tight would mean she'd need to work at it for a while.

That meant she'd be vulnerable to a counter attack.

She hissed in annoyance.

If they were sealing up the piping and bursting them from the inside, that just meant she would need to find the boiler room, the place connected to the whole rig. There was no way they would be able to seal off every pipe, and trying to destroy the Boiler Room would be nothing short of ruining the entire building.

Now where would it be?

The ENE PRT headquarters was an abandoned oil rig, which meant that at one time the machinery would need a way to cool off without stressing the entire infrastructure. Which meant that the Boiler Room would be bigger than average and located somewhere out of the way, so it could reach all parts of the building equally.

So at the center… but… below?

A basement!

The boiler room must be at the lowest possible level!

"There she is!"

Another group of troopers turned the hallway, their much bigger guns giving Taylor pause as they took position a respectable distance away from her. Barrels pointed her way for extra measure.

Rifles barked and spat hot death, burning lead filling the hallway. All that accomplished was stoke the fires of Taylor's anger.

"Get… out…."

Her mouth rippled and deformed, the gun fire tearing chunks of pink flesh from her massive form. When they stopped shooting, long enough to reform, she resumed her march forward. The large, tree trunk like legs she'd formed smashing into the ground as long, thin tentacles burst from her back.

Seeing her approach, the men stowed their firearms and drew tasers instead. Eight troopers, as many as could fit in two lines in the hallway, fired at once as their target stalked ever closer. Taylor roared when the metal prong struck, not out of pain but sheer frustration. The electricity pushing into her body caused fist sized patches of her skin to bubble and burst, but the actual disruption was minimal. Lashing out, she hurled small chunks of debris at the men with her tentacles even as smaller, gossamer like threads of her body danced along the wires sticking into her and consuming the metal and energy alike.

They were the ones who tricked her.

"GET OUT."

They took her friend from her.

"_geEt OuT"_

They were going to lock her up again!

"_**Get Out Get Out Get Out!"**_

Taylor's mind grew crystal clear for a single moment. Her voice calming and solidifying for a single moment.

"Get out of my way!"

Crashing over them as a wave, she became a mass of pink drowning out screams of terror as the ground below them cracked and folded under the pressure. Burying them deep inside her body, the troopers struggled and kicked and bit and shot at her as best they could but that did nothing. She simply consumed every scrap of non-human material on the troopers and kept moving.

Unfortunately, the force of her attack caused something vital to break in the Rig's structure and her assault broke through the floor. Their sudden descent carrying the group into the next floor.

Then the one below it.

And into the next one.

The crash rattled her, the force of the crash causing her to collapse back into a pool of harmless pink goo.

MoVE!

That wasn't important.

_MoVe!_

She needed to go. She was close. The fall might have disoriented her, but it got her closer to her goal._**M**_**o**V_e!  
_  
Fortunately, after metaphorically shaking her head, there was enough of Taylor back in control to check the men of the squead sent to detain her, questing pink tendrils sliding across exposed flesh. Thankfully, she tasted no blood and felt nothing that seemed like it would indicate a break. The naked pile of wounded men simply groaned as she covered them once more, making sure they were free of any sharp objects. debris or glass or anything that might harm them like chemicals or sparking wires.

The sudden screams told her they didn't appreciate it, but she had hurt them so it was okay. She wasn't feeling particularly charitable either but still made sure they didn't step on something or burn a hole in their foot.

It was the least she could do.

After all… it had landed her just where she needed to be.

The pipes along the walls were larger now, protruding out of the walls like some kind of steampunk book art cover. The air was hot and humid, vapor spewing from the cracks in the walls, and the blasts of nearly boiling water burned enough she tried her best to dodge them. She took the chance to gather herself, body churning and warping as her mass coalesced into human size once more.

Finally.

She was close.

**PAigE**

Her friend needed her. And she wasn't about to let them take her away.

**sAVe YOu**

Each step she took felt leaden and heavy, her form dragging across the soaked ground. Taylor actually found the sensation to be rather pleasant, like dragging one's feet through wet sand. Strange, but not bad.

The water level seemed to grow as she followed the pipes, now reaching just around her 'knees'. Pressing up against the door to the boiler room, or, rather, some kind of maintenance hub for the whole Rig she didn't bother with trying anything fancy. Instead, she just jammed her hand into the door's lock and popped the whole handle, lock, and eventually security bolt of the wall.

Taylor just shrugged at the electronic security. None of it concerned her.

'It's not like the keypad could set off any alarms that weren't already going off.'

Indeed, the door swung open and she was permitted to gaze upon the heart of Protectorate ENE's maintenance department. It was a large, sprawling room with at least six or seven offices and another hallway, it had a security door too, leading off it. The now omnipresent pipes ran in groups under the grated floor or across the ceiling and were joined by spiraling clumps of cables, small mountains of replacement parts, dozens upon dozens upon dozens of sets of tools and, most importantly, about thirty men, and two women, in jumpsuits.

All of them were armed with some kind of heavy or mean looking tool, a few of them holding welding instruments, and they were all clustered around the base of a particularly large machine. A machine that looked exactly like a giant septic tank to Taylor's many, _many_ eyes.

"Shit. She's here!" Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the younger-sounding voice.

None of the mechanics had spoken and a rustle of movement deep in their ranks was all that caught Taylor's eye. A flutter of white fabric emblazoned on its chest with the symbol of a clock.

One she recognized all too easily.

"C**loCKBlockeR."**

"Fuck!"

He turned, but didn't run. Instead, he slapped his hands against the machine and grunted in exertion.

"**movemovEMOVEMOVEMOVE!"**

Taylor had a passing idea of how his power worked and she knew to stop him. Her chest exploded, hundreds of incredibly thin tendrils lashing out and overwhelming the group of defiant workers with the sheer violence of the attack. Still, these men and women, hardened by years of back breaking labor and industrial wounds, did not break. Instead, they took the hit.

Many screamed, all of them flailed and lashed out at her, some even injuring themselves or others.

None broke.

Hissing in pain as some of tendrils were destroyed by the welders, Taylor reoriented herself and simply attacked the tools directly. Violently jerking the tools out of their hands, Taylor thought she'd managed to do so without breaking any fingers, she then swallowed the instruments. Breaking them down was painful, agonizing even, as clumps of her body blackened and fell to the ground, joining a few severed pieces of her body mass from earlier, but she persevered. Covering the side of the room the mechanics were fighting in she eventually subdued the group, leaving them swallowed by her mass and as naked, and weaponless, as the troopers whose armor she'd consumed.

It wasn't fast enough.

Clockblocker cried out in pain and the whole Rig _shuddered_ as a strange aura seemed to seep from his body and cover the machinery as it spread over most of the room. And, just like that, Taylor knew she'd been trapped.

"**Nonononononono! You can't! I have to savehersavehersavehersaveher!"**

Grabbing at her body, Taylor tore out chunks of flesh as she pushed through the mass of humanity that had just recently been the only thing stopping her. Reaching out, her fingers coalesced and then lengthened as they scooped up the now slumped over Ward, who had collapsed next to the machine.

A pit of cold anger roaring within her, she brought his face close to hers, the manic girl-thing shaking the would be hero until his eyes focused on her, helpless now that the workers had been pinned in place and keeping them from attacking her.

"**I can't taste the floor or the machines or the pipes, but I can still taste you! Tell me how to make it go away. Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetellme!"**

Coughing, spluttering, choking as cable-like fingers stronger and harder than steel tightened around his throat, the teenaged boy managed a few words.

"Hur-hurting… you're hurting th-th-them."

Flickering, Taylor took a moment to realize what the boy was talking about. The pile of pink flesh and groaning humans was just that, _groaning in pain_. She relaxed. Not enough that they could move, but enough so the workers could breathe properly.

If only just.

Taylor still flexed her fingers around Clockblocker's throat.

"**tELl M**_**e!**_**!"**

He didn't try to play stupid.

"C-can't."

The urge to squeeze just a bit more filled her and Taylor almost gave into the dark impulse. Instead, she exploded. Or at least her torso did.

Thousands upon thousands of tiny filaments, about the size of the head of a pin, burst out of what had been her torso. Making contact with the severed sections, the tentacles were soon brought back under the control of the main body and countless more explored every inch of the maintenance room.

In the end, she found that only about half of the room itself was frozen, more importantly, however, was that all the pipes leading to and from the central water pump were totally beyond her ability to come into contact with.

**hIS FaUlt**

**DEsErveS PeNANce**

Dennis's eyes fluttered and spots danced across his vision, when he swooned Taylor almost dropped him.

**REtriBuTIon**

'_That's not right… he is… Emma's friend… '_Fresh welts already forming around his throat, the teenager seemed to barely cling to consciousness, his eyes groggily opening and closing as he struggled to face her.

Her grip slackened, allowing oxygen to pass through.

Coughing, the Ward took a deep breath and winced at his throat. His head was less, which was a relief. That was when Taylor noticed a thin line trailing of red blood trailing out of the boy's nose and across his lips.

"ARe yOU oKAy!?" She cradled the boy to her reforming chest, running a faux finger across his bloody face, the taste of copper and sweat dancing across her skin.

"I pushed my power… a bit too much. Too many objects. Don't feel… too… hot."

His eyes closed.

"_No…."_This boy was a Ward… a hero to be. And Emma's friend, who was just doing his duty. And what had she….

**NoNOoNONonONono!**

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Shaking the boy's shoulder had him groan and try and push her off.

"I'm up! Sorry about that Taylor-" The boy worried his lip. "I don't know if this matters, but no one's dead." Dennis had to take a moment and Taylor wiped away a few more drops of blood. "And the reports said there were no serious physical injuries." He managed a cough, hacking up a wad of bloody mucus, and a laugh. "I think we're all gonna need therapy though. Heh. Tentacle monsters."

It just now occurred to Taylor that the boy wasn't wearing his mask. Running a finger down the side of his face, she stared at his pale skin and blue eyes.

"**No one is dead? But I hurt… so many."**

This time he quirked a smile at her. It was pained and lopsided and even a bit sickly, but it was a smile.

"Nah. You cushioned everyone's falls. And even removed most of the debris that might hurt them after you… disrobed them."

"**Dis… robed?"**

Another coughing, hacking laugh.

"They're naked you giant wad of bubblegum."

Taylor blinked. All dozen of her eyes.

"**I was not paying attention."**

He chuckled.

"Emma told us. She said you were really smart but got a bad case of tunnel vision when you focus on something."

The boy wasn't laughing at her, despite what Taylor's gut reaction had been. She'd flinched at his snort, mind dancing back to when that meant something was about to be poured down her shirt.

"Is she… ok? You care about her. Your eyes are… happy when you say her name."

Now Clockblocker grimaced.

"I'm jealous, you know?" He wiggled around a bit, not to escape but in sheer awkwardness. "She's very, _very_ pretty. Drop dead gorgeous, really. And I… like her. But she doesn't see me that way." The slime girl could hear frustration, but not offense in her captive's voice. She leaned closer. "When Emma talks about you, though, her eyes light up. The only other time that happens is when she's talking to her sisters or something. I, she, what I'm trying to say is that Emma loves you."

Her face suddenly grew uncomfortably warm.

"Wait wait! I didn't mean it like that. I meant platonically. Totally and strictly platonic. Not that there isn't anything wrong about two girls liking each other like that! Or that you aren't pretty either. I mean, you are a bit… slimy, but I heard that's not a turn off for everyone! "

Clockblocker's words fell over one another in a rush to get out.

"But she cares Taylor. She cares a lot and she got all of us rooting for you. It's why I couldn't let you go. If you bust Canary out, that's, like, four felonies? Maybe more. It means you get caged too."

His eyes fell.

"I… don't know you. I feel bad for you, but I don't really _care_. Emma does. And if you're caged that would break her." Dennis bit his lip so hard it bled and his voice grew soft. "Please don't do that…. Please."

For a long moment neither spoke. Taylor… felt weary. She was so very tired. Everything felt heavy and slow and she simply sighed.

"I have to help Paige. Letting her be killed, I just can't…."

Shuffling, the hero tried to speak slowly and clearly.

"And I don't think this will. The most you could do is hide her for a day or two, but, well, Dragon is on her way plus there's support coming in already. More troopers, more capes, maybe the national guard. Eventually the Tinkers will drag you down and isolate you and Canary both. Then it'll be all over."

Taylor couldn't refute that, even if she wanted to shout a denial, her gut and heart telling her that she could and should do _something_.

But Clockblocker's eyes were so clear, so earnest that she couldn't deny that what he was saying was the complete and unabridged truth. To him, at least.

"I… what should I do?"

Her tendrils slowed in their undulations and drooped and fell to the ground.

"I don't know. But fighting through the-"

_**CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!**_

Pain, sharp and burning, filled Taylor's chest. Coherent beams of light punched through her torso and she screamed in agony as charred, blackened fist sized bubbles formed inside of her body. Turning on the spot, she threw her arms up in a futile attempt at defense as more bolts of energy struck her.

Before it was shot out, one of her eyes saw two black clad troopers shouldering large, bulky guns. Desperate and screaming, Taylor tore a chunk off of one of the machines and hurled it at the source of the attack. As she did so, some tiny part of what passed for her brain clicked and she realized she could feel, and taste, the floor again.

Turning into a puddle, as easy as simple as "giving up", Taylor disappeared underneath something heavy and filthy, but it stopped the burning agony tearing through her flesh. Assessing her situation, as she felt heavy, armored bootsteps echo through the floor, the slime girl tried to disgorge the hardened lumps of unresponsive material she still felt inside of her.

In truth, it was like having burning coals shoved into her breast, but she knew screaming could mean death. So, silent, she tried her best to vomit up the now unresponsive lumps. All she achieved in doing was filling her mouth with death.

"Over there!"

Shooting out of her hiding place, it only occurred to Taylor after the fact that not only could she damage the machinery, but that meant Clockblocker's power had faded too. That meant she could have just fled. More pressingly, they hadn't actually found her, she'd just revealed herself.

Another volley of lasers raked across her face and chest, sending her screaming backwards once again. This time she didn't just retreat. Even as she tumbled down, a dozen threads raced for each of her assailants legs. Grabbing ahold of their pants leg, she jerked them violently forward and both men opened fire in sudden panic.

What happened next was totally out of her control.

Both of the men hit the ground hard, and while one of the troopers kept his weapon centered on the vague are she was hiding in, the other's shots went wide.

This time the loud crack wasn't aimed at her and the wild shot tore through someone else.

Forming an eye, she watched as the last of the panicked workers made their way out of the room and as Clockblocker fell to his knees, cradling a gently burning hole in his abdomen.

Taylor screamed. Dragging the men forward she covered their bodies, shredding armor and weapons alike, before violently slamming their heads into the metal floor.

"**Nonononononononono!"** She tore everything in her way apart. Falling to the ground next to Clockblocker, Taylor gently lifted his head. Running her fingers over his lips, she sighed in relief when she felt him sharply exhale. "Clock? Can you hear me?"

"Taylor, let Clockblocker go now."

Forming new eyes, Taylor was so shocked she couldn't quite respond.

"Emma… this… I didn't do this!"

Half burning machinery, a pair of mostly naked troopers, unconscious and in nothing but scraps of torn armor and bleeding copiously from head wounds, and a bleeding Ward whose costume still smoldered with embers even as Taylor smothered the small fires.

Those tiny, insignificant burns were nothing compared to being shot with a laser rifle.

"Flask, step away from the Ward _now!_'

She flinched at the shout. Turning to the newcomer, she saw an adult cape she didn't recognize. Her pink and white costume was bright and flashy but the woman simply didn't ring any bells.

"I… I'm…."

Taylor simply didn't know what to say or do. She froze, as her best friend stared at her in a mixture of horror and _fear_.

A sudden displacement of air and Browbeat reached out and grabbed Clockblocker out of her lap, Taylor too shocked to stop him. Another rapid displacement and Aegis had grabbed up the troopers. And the sudden hum of Kid Win's laser pistols charging, something that sounded far, far too much like the rifles that had riddled her with invisible fire, was what finally broke through Taylor's shock enough to make her flinch.

Suddenly feeling very, very naked as three Wards and an unknown hero confronted her, Taylor did the only thing she could.

She screamed and ran away.

* * *

Paige felt nothing.

No anger.

No sadness.

No cold or warmth.

The second the words 'guilty' had left the judge's mouth, her life had become a silent void, grey and empty. She'd been marched out of court, through the building, and into a van while paparazzi swept in to get the perfect shot of her shell shocked visage. It was a cold comfort when one of the troopers escorting her put a coat over her head as he dragged her limp body into the armored vehicle half an hour ago.

Not that she had offered any resistance.

Everything up until this point had been for show, after all.

No chance to speak up and defend herself.

Frankly, it would have been a miracle if she managed to get as much as whimper out of the heavy restrictions they'd place over her mouth, jaw and neck. One would think she was a Brute rather than a Master with the level of restraints they managed to fit into the steel contraption.

She'd been given no mercy or understand from the good people of the jury, who had turned against her from the very moment they laid eyes on her. As if they'd known she was guilt on sight.

And now….

What now?

They had just driven off the court parking lot, bumps along the road lightly jostling the parahuman singer as she contemplated on what came next.

'Baumann Institute, obviously.'

Otherwise known as The Birdcage.

Parahuman limbo. The place where the world chose to dump its undesirables, for better or worse. From what little information she managed to get from researching it, the prison wasn't so much a physical space as much as a self-contained dimension meant to put as many barriers as possible between the inmates and the outside world.

And she was headed straight there.

Reality hadn't quite sunk in, she realized.

Her back felt stiff against the metal wall of the van, the professional disinterest of the troopers sitting across her dissuading her from trying to start any sort of conversation. Paige wasn't under any delusion regarding their opinion of her.

Criminal.

Dangerous.

Monster.

Such were the titles pinned upon her by the prosecution.

Not a young woman who did not have full control of her abilities, but a malicious sociopath who used her abilities to grievously injure another human. They hadn't even allowed her to respond. As if the mere thought of doing so was a threat to their safety!

So much paranoia.

So much fear.

They weren't willing to believe she wasn't guilty. Not like Taylor did.

God… _Taylor!_

The little slime had been a balm for her spirit during the past few days. Her infectious humour and upbeat optimism wasn't something she had expected from someone in as much trouble as she was. The extreme opposite in fact. Instead of wallowing in despair like she had been doing back out West, Taylor hadn't given up on trying to prove herself innocent.

To fight for her freedom.

And for a few moments each day, Paige allowed herself to think like her.

Foolish? Perhaps.

Nothing stopped the slime girl from being just as swiftly railroaded as she was.

It would be ironic, if not cruel.

The two of them had promised to speak again after the trials were done. And now the only way she was ever going to see the little blob of slime ever again was if she were sent to the same inhuman limbo.

'Be careful what you wish for… I suppose.'

She had hoped to at least say goodbye though.

The younger woman was going to be heartbroken.

But that was okay. If saying goodbye meant Taylor wouldn't be sent to the trash heap of the parahuman community, then Paige was happy. Happy that there was still a chance, as small as it was, that her being sent away had mollified the masses enough to allow her slimy friend to slip through.

She let out a faint sniffle.

'I'm gonna miss her.' Her eyes blurred, stinging with unshed tears.

A loud screech of metal rocked her world as the armored van began to slide and tipped dangerously, sudden, violent motion jolting her in her bonds. Head snapping forward, Canary felt like her neck had just been cracked open as her chin bit into the metal of her muzzle and collar. Warm blood ran down the side of her face and the back of her head.

'Did I… hit my head?'

There were spots in front of her eyes and she tried to shake her head. Groans came from somewhere around her and she looked around.

One of her escorts hadn't been buckled in and had been throne forward, cracking his helmet against a metal locker. His compatriot, even then, was trying to force open his seat belt and tend to his friend. That was then Paige noticed the jagged metal gash in the side of the van.

"What happened?"

No one responded to her garbled, warped voice box.

"Fuck! Johnny! Johnny! You ok?" The trooper was trying to wake his friend and that was then Paige realized something. Neither the driver nor his navigator had called out to them.

"Check on the front." Her request was refused.

"Trooper!" She violently jerked forward in her restraints, the other man leaping to his feet when she did so.

"What! What in the fuck do you want!?"

"Your friend is alive." She'd seen the man on the floor move. "Check on the drivers."

He didn't say anything, simply looking back and forth from his friend and the front. Eventually, the man made a decision and walked to the partition.

"Jesus Christ…."

Canary felt a stab in her heart. Hope. And then self loathing at the fact she was happy at someone dying. Even if it meant a few more hours of freedom.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ok, I gotta radio this in."

Once more kneeling next to his downed friend, the trooper checked the man's pulse, relaxing a bit at what he found, and brought his radio up to his helmet.

"Command, this is corporal Sylvestor. PT is down, repeat prisoner transport is down. Two men dead and one unconscious, probable head injury. Prisoner is alive, but wounded, and secure."

He walked over and checked her chains. Then he double checked her muzzle.

"Confirmed, prisoner is secure."

No one responded.

"Repeat, Command, this is corporal Sylvestor. Prisoner transport is down."

Nothing but static came over the line. Growling in annoyance, he tried to open the door to the van, finding it jammed. Kicking it, repeatedly, the metal groaned and eventually broke under the ever growing force of Sylvestor's anger and frustration. After he leapt to the ground, Paige heard only one thing.

"Jesus H. Christ."

"What?" She called out. "What's going on out there."

This time she was the one getting the silent treatment, the trooper ignoring her and walking around the side of the car. Frustrated herself, she began flailing and trying to work her restraints. After several minutes of this Paige gave up, slumping in her chains.

Eventually the trooper returned, blood on his uniform, and began fiddling around with his radio.

"Maybe it's broken."

She'd spoken just to try and get him to respond but the man actually paused.

"There's fires in the city. A lot of them. And the guy that hit us was shot. Something's wrong." His words were wrong, there was a deep tension in Sylvestor's voice, and Canary was confused and afraid.

Tongue caught her in throat, Paige tried to say something. Anything.

Her silence was only broken by the crackle of static coming from the corporal's radio.

Eventually, the unconscious man groaned.

"Johnny! Thank God! Are you ok?"

"What-" The trooper tried to move. "Ah! Fucking shit! What happened?"

"We got hit by a truck. From the damage it must have been going ninety, maybe a hundred. Think the driver was bleeding out and just kept driving. Now don't move you idiot, you hit your head pretty bad. How's your neck feeling?"

The distant roar of many, many motorcycles drowned out any response the wounded man might make.

"When it rains, it freaking pours." Sylvester drew his sidearm and checked the weapon. "Guess it doesn't matter. Are you good to shoot Johnny?"

"Yeah. It's my hip. It hurts, but it's not broken I don't think. My head's throbbing, but my vision's steady. I think I'm good."

"What should I do?" Both men stopped moving when Canary spoke.

They shared a look, silently communicating with each other despite their helmets and masks.

"What _can_ you do?"

Shrugging, as best she could in chains, Paige didn't really know what to say.

"More than if I'm strung up like this. That's not Armsmaster and it sounds like there's a lot of them. Leave my muzzle on if you have to, but give me a taser or something."

They shared another look and Sylvester let out a sigh.

"Fine. But if you do _anything_ suspicious I'll put a bullet through your brain."

Canary shrugged again.

There was no more time for talk. Moving quickly, Sylvestor propped Johnny up, the wounded trooper swearing creatively enough to amuse the captured cape despite her predicament, before the corporal pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the shackles connection to the van. Pulling his taser from his belt, he handed the weapon to Canary.

"You know how to use this?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "You gonna let me out of these? Paige shook her chains.

"No."

Johnny laughed at his partner's utterly deapan rejection. She just huffed and flicked the safety of her weapon off.

Despite having been around PRT troopers for so long, Paige never really took the time to appreciate just how heavily suited up they were. A full head helmet with a reflective face mask, a ballistic vest, that she knew was reinforced with trauma plates, knee and elbow protection, steel toed boots, and armored gloves and shin guards. And, according to rumor, even their protective cups had metal reinforcements. The troopers were as close to head to toe armor as a body could get without wearing medieval plate.

She hoped it would be enough.


	11. Chapter 10

**AN: Hello! Hello! Faithful readers and followers. It is I, Wyvern, and with my loyal assistant the Warhawk, bringing to you the next installment of Flask. I'd like to give a special thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter and asked questions. Your feedback is very important and helped us lay the groundwork for this one! **

**AtW: It really does. But, I feel we need to make a few things clear. Taylor isn't Skitter yet, she's not Weaver, and she's**_** nowhere**_** near Khepri. In the canon timeline, this happens earlier (to occur **_**after**_** Emma's attack, but **_**before**_** Sophia corrupts her.) Shadow Stalker was already a Ward (and didn't have the same body count she did in canon, the why will be explained… definitely by the end of this arc) and Sophia never got her hooks into Emma.**

**Coil is actively calling in all his favors and his goal is to acquire control of the City. That goal doesn't require everyone to survive the night and not everyone is going to get a good or climactic death.**

**And finally, Taylor herself. She was bullied for a shorter period of time, but more intensely. We intend to elaborate on this at length later, when Shadow Stalker is active again, but it was largely physical and verbal, not psychological as Emma did not participate. She has had about four weeks to recover from all of this. Three of those she had Paige, one of those she had Paige and Emma.**

**Taylor has not received therapy, medication, or even rest since she has triggered. She doesn't sleep anymore. That, more or less, means she spends about 16 hours a day stewing in her own emotions. Danny and Elizabeth **_**have**_** helped and Taylor **_**was**_** making progress. But even canon Taylor was in a psych ward for a week, had more than a month off of school, intense, regular attention from her father, medication, and about three months overall to heal before we even see her at the start of the story.**

**In short, this Taylor is not **_**that**_** Taylor and that's a big reason why she does what she does. She's a scared kid and she's making bad decisions.**

**Sorry this is so long, but I've gotten multiple reviews / PMs and this needed clarifying. To all of you, thank you so much and I appreciate everything you do for us!**

**Wyvern: Now onto the show!**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Brockton Asunder (Part 2)**

* * *

It was incredible how a situation could go from bad to worse.

How in one second things were seemingly going along fine only to suddenly go out of control and descend into a spiral of madness, rage, and regret. Taylor had gotten awfully familiar with the later over the course of her stay at the rig.

From prisoner, to tentative colaborator, to escapee. Everything had spiraled out of control the moment Sophia had shoved her into the locker.

It was funny, really.

The worst day of her life didn't just end. No. It went on and on and_ on_ as more and more stuff piled up on top of her. One moment she was a victim who made a mistake because she had been tortured non-stop for months on end by a psychotic bitch and her cronies, only to finally lash out and get sent to prison.

Where was the fairness?

Where was the justice?!

Not everything had been awful. She'd finally reconnected with her father and best friend. Both of which she hadn't even spoken with properly for months. She had gotten to meet some of the most wonderful people in Brockton Bay at the Rig, like Armsmaster and Velocity.

She had even made a new friend.

Someone who understood her. Understood what she was going through and wanted to be her friend despite all that happened.

Electricity popped and sizzled and crackled as it arced through the air, grounding itself on the machinery around her and in her flesh. Taylor didn't feel pain, she'd turned off most of her nerve analogues at this point, but the sensation of bolts of energy burning through globs of her flesh, leaving shriveled, blackened tunnels in their wake, was one of the most disturbing things she'd experienced in her life. And it meant absolutely nothing.

Her pain, her freedom, her suffering meant nothing. Because an innocent woman's life was on the line. Holding onto that single belief, that unquestionably _righteous_ desire to save Paige was the only thing keeping her sane right now.

Flickers of fire, of troopers screaming in pain, and support staff screaming in fear, and the never ending blare of klaxons.

None of that mattered.

**WHOMP**

Blue white bolts ionized the air once more, Taylor's body once more being consumed in a wave of lightning. This time, she shed her outermost layer into a sooty, ashy pile of waste. Much reduced, the dark pink slime still kept moving.

Slipping past a water tank, underneath a damaged motor, and finally leaping into the open hatch of a small air duct, Taylor sighed when she started detecting motes of extremely spicy chemicals. Slinging herself backwards, using the raw flexibility of her tendrils, she managed to clear the lip of the vent just as a metal shutter slammed down. And while she couldn't feel _too_ much of an increase in the temperature of the room, Taylor could still smell the cloying stench of a chemical fire. Something she was becoming far too familiar with.

"Shit! Fan out! If the vents activated their purge system, she must have tried to make a run for it! Piggot was clear on her orders, Flask does _not_ get out!"

Taylor ignored the voice of the new cape, the adult woman one in the pinkish costume. She wasn't here to fight, at least not against Emma and her friends, and she was almost ready to just start eating through the floor.

Even if that would take a Hell of a lot of time.

'Maybe… if I can find somewhere they can't reach?'

She dismissed that thought. If she holed up in a corner or a small, isolated area they could just blast her with a flamethrower or an incendiary grenade. Odds were, she'd survive but wouldn't have the mass to do anything but sit there. Already something deep in Taylor's gut told her that she was losing a _lot_ of her body.

"Taylor! Can you hear me?!"

She stiffened.

Emma.

Indeed, her friend seemed to waddle through the damaged room with disturbing ease. Her diamond coated body suffering little to no resistance from toppled machinery and the water leaking up to her calves.

Hadn't she been having another freak out, the slime girl would have likely gushed about her friend's costume.

Diamond Dust was a pretty popular hero despite only recently becoming active, her powers and overall attitude as a no nonsense yet kind hero had seen her gain a loyal following amongst the community. It also didn't hurt that her costume was just awesome.

Bodysuits were pretty standard for capes.

They were a classic for a reason after all.

Emma, however, seemed to have applied her own sense of fashion to hers. Making it a darker shade of gray in order to contrast with her diamond skin. Like her fellow Wards, she wore a personal symbol to set her apart from the other, in her case, a bright silver rhombus. Hexagonal waves seemed to emanate from her torso to create a ripple-like effect all over her body.

_fRiENd_

**bETRayEr**

_SiSter_

**ENemY  
**  
Emma approached her steadily with tentative steps, gently, and slowly, laying the electric baton she'd been carrying on a low table even as she stepped over the wreckage.

"Taylor, I'm here." Diamond flickered to skin, slowly, steadily, and finally a healthy pink replaced off white. "I have no idea what you're going through, but I'm here for you. Right now, look at me!"

Flinching, Taylor turned back to her… friend. It hurt to meet those blue eyes, something in her gut telling her that she was making a choice between two people.

"**EMmA. I… must… help." **It hurt to talk, vocal cords not forming properly. Swallowing her voice box, Taylor tried again. "Emma. **I muST** not. Let. Paige. Die."

She had to be deliberate, stilted with how she spoke, but Taylor at last managed to tell her sister what she had to.

"And I get that. Being caged is a death sentence for most people. But _not_ Canary! Lustrum is in there and looks after women. There's no way a Master like Canary would just be thrown away, either. She's a sweet, charming woman who I know you care a lot about but attacking government officials won't help either of you. Tell me, what's your plan?"

**kILl**

**HOarD**

**fRIEnd**

The slime felt her body warp and ripple in distress as it formed a faux humanoid body. Utterly featureless outside of the spreading cracks in its skin and malformed limbs that seemed less like arms and more like pieces of glass that had been glued together into a human body. The only remotely organic part of her transformation were her eyes, all four of them the same familiar shade of green.

Her mouth, a jagged maw filled with needle-like teeth leaked the pinkish fluid which made up her imperfect form.

"THeen WHat shOUld I dO!"

Her roar echoed through the maintenance room like the boom of a cannon.

"I _STAY_. Sheee's GOnE! I GO! ShE'S gONe!"

She hunched over, a second pair of shard arms surging from her ribcage to catch her fall.

"You need to work with us." Taylor was ready to scream again at Emma's soft words. "The best thing you can do for yourself _and_ for Canary is to avoid being caged yourself. If you work with us, I'm sure this incident can be properly addressed. I promise you, she'll be devastated, Danny will be devastated, I'll be devastated if anything happens to you. Think Taylor, you're all he has left. And you're my sister! Me and Ann and Mom and Dad! Please, don't leave us."

Emma wasn't crying, but Taylor could see her eyes were red and swollen. She was even shaking. It… hurt. Deep, deep inside. Worse than Shadow Stalker's knife.

Taylor stepped forward, her body tensing and rippling. Her mouth opened and she let out a warbling, echoing cry that shook the room.

"She's attacking! Dust, get back!"

That adult woman cried out again and taser prongs were once more embedded in Taylor's chest. This time the lightning didn't even slow her down. Screaming and roaring at the same time, Taylor slashed the cables carrying electricity into her body and absorbed the tangs and wiring. Totally ignoring Emma, she vaulted over several pieces of debris in a single leap and lashed out with all four of her arms.

Multiple layered energy shields popped into existence in front of her. They popped like soap bubbles.

More effective was the energy baton that slammed into her side and sent her flying.

"Taylor, stand down!"

A red armored giant screamed at her and waved the sparking weapon threateningly.

Snarling, screeching, writhing, Taylor did not listen.

She exploded into motion, body melting and repositioning before launching itself towards Aegis with all the ferocity of a great cat, limbs poised like a spider web to grab onto the older teen the moment he attempted to fly away from her reach.

As expected he moved to avoid her…

And vanished! Space warping as he seemingly teleported away from her and near the tiniest member of the Wards.

'Vista….' She growled, her second set of arms dragging across the ground with a sickening screech of metal on bone, ragged ends leaving deep scratch marks on the ground.

"Stand down Flask! This is your last warning or we will use lethal force!"

Her head swung away from the little girl she'd just been sizing up for a meal.

Instead, her mouth grew twice as large and she _screamed_ with all the might she could muster.

"**I wIll EAT yoU!"**

She launched forward, tearing through everything in her way and sending a massive, heavy machine flying with a contemptuous flick of her arm. Shield after shield popped into existence in front of her and each popped just as easily as the last. Just as Taylor cleared the halfway mark both Gallant and Browbeat appeared with a reality twisting step, electrified batons crackling with violent joy and both swinging for her head.

Solidifying the mass in her limbs, Taylor tried to catch the blows. Instead, the electricity melted her flesh just enough that the weapons stuck in her. Not even bothering to try and free their weapon, the two Wards turned and bodily picked up the panicking heroine. Another reality warping step and they were out of there. Sucking the objects inside, she didn't turn around but rather reformed facing where her prey had moved.

Zeroing in on the woman who'd shot at her, she almost sprung forward again. Instead, feeling as much as hearing the hum of Kid Win's energy weapons, she dropped to the ground. Instantly her six limbs had turned into short, rapidly scuttling digits. Dancing across the deck she zig zagged her way towards the enemy's heart, dodging, and shrugging off, dozens of red pinpricks as she did so.

"**CO**_**Me h**_**ERe **_**li**_**t**_**tle**__**gI**_**rL. Yo**_**U'Re**_** Emma's f**_**RIen**_**d, I WO**_**n**_**'t H**_**UR**_**T **_**you**_**. **_**Bu**_**t i**_**t'**_**s TI**_**me to **_**T**_**Ak**_**E a **_**na**_**P."**

Green armor and blonde hair, that was her target. The Mover that let her prey simply dance out of range of her claws. A loud clunk and a sudden, all consuming pain raced through what passed for her brain. Shrieking, she danced back under a machine and took a second to slough off another external coating. Shivering, twitching she formed a trio of eyes and had them peek around the grey metal of her makeshift cover. One was popped by laser fire and the other saw a large grey baton swinging towards it so Taylor went with option three.

Her body flowed like liquid, forming a single massive tendril that propelled itself forward. Striking the ground, she slithered forward like a ten foot long pink snake before suddenly forming clawed, slashing talons on the sides of her body and leaping upwards. Hitting the ceiling she swung and clambered and tossed herself across the lattice work of grating that made up the ceiling.

Like a giant pink chimp, she fell from the ceiling with a screech of challenge and prepared to render Vista unconscious just as she had so many others that very same day.

A pop of displaced air and she knew she'd fucked up.

The heroine simply Moved out of the way and Taylor could see a little blue and white disk on the floor. For all the world, it looked like a mine. And in the two seconds it took her to fall she formed two tendrils. One lanced out towards the mine and the other back towards the ceiling.

Neither struck before a cage of blue and white light popped into existence around her, the tips of both tentacles being cut off and the rest of her body suspended in a hard light cage.

"**Nononononononono!"**

Flailing, lashing, bludgeoning, slashing, chewing, striking, Taylor attacked in every way she could. Nothing found purchase for more than a moment's moment in the solid energy. She was trapped and she knew it.

"Desist, Flask!" The older cape approached her. "That containment field was developed by Armsmaster for the express purpose of restricting you."

Taylor did not care to hear her, continuing her onslaught against the energy field. Relentlessly, strike upon vicious smash from her tendrils and mass bashed against the hard light cube; the vibrations of the impact rippling through her liquified body.

There was no time.

She had to leave.

Paige was waiting for her.

It hurt. Every time she hit the field, a small piece of herself was burnt off. It was slow, agonizing. But she fought through it, even her limbs became decayed messes and her body started sporting visible holes. The heat was dizzying, the electric discharges released by the field prickling through her body like a thousand needles.

"Taylor! Look at me! Ignore Dovetail." Taylor's dozen, dozen eyes turned to stare at Emma for a second before Dovetail lurched forward and brought her weapon to bear.

"Diamond Dust, what do you think you're doing? She's a dangerous criminal, you need to step back!"

Emma ignored the older heroine, snapping her fingers when Taylor's gaze started to turn towards the pink clad woman. Sighing, her diamond skin even started to fade. A few moments later, human, jittery Emma Barnes stood there, unarmed, and spoke to her in a soft voice. The kind usually used on the mentally feeble or a skittish animal.

Aegis's strong fingers closed on Dovetail's shoulder when she tried to open her mouth again.

"Let the girl speak."

"Taylor, ignore them." The slime wiggled, almost in embarrassment, and fully stilled. Even if she was still writhing across the surface of the hard light box.

"Come on, stop attacking the container. You're hurting yourself." Wincing, the redhead pointed to the ever growing mass of blackened debris accumulating on the edges of the container. "If you kill yourself, you're no good to Canary. So… stop poking at it, ok?"

"**Let. Me. Out."**

Body going perfectly still, Taylor's body collapsed in on itself. Forming a central stalk, large, bulging eyes grew out to watch every direction simultaneously and thick, ropey strands of pink-black material suspended the primary mass in the air. This not only ensured that the slime could see in every direction but minimized her contact with the burning light too.

"I can't do that." Emma shook her head, red waves flowing around her soot blackened shoulders. "If you try to escape again someone could die. Dennis, Clockblocker, he's not dead. Vista got him to medical in time. But Taylor, you hurt him. Badly. Even some of the others have burns or broken bones. You have to stop this or people are going to die. Do you understand?"

**WoRriEd**

**AngRY**

**EScApE**

**ESCAPE!**

_**ESCAPE!**_

Taylor cast her mind outwards, even as a vertically slit mouth formed.

"**We should not fight. Let me out. I will leave. No one will die."**

Flickers of… herself were there. Tiny, tiny chunks of her body that had been torn off or lost with the energy damage or seared away by the dangerous environment still existed. Taylor couldn't quite control them, per se, but there _was_ a connection. Enough that she could give it the vague order to gather together into a larger mass.

Disorientating in the extreme, of course.

And confusing, considering she could feel a not insignificant portion of herself stored in two other locations. Not that she hadn't… expected the parts of her body she'd allowed Armsmaster to take for samples to exist, but she'd never really _tried_ to sense it. Or even do anything other than tacitly acknowledge she was no longer human in that sense. Unfortunately, the two separate sections were too far away for her to do anything other than knowing they were out there.

Immensely more pressing was her current situation, of course.

"Taylor, you have to know how ominous that was. You sounded like a super villain right there. Just, please, I need you to… turn into a ball? Relax and calm down and just… please, think of your father! I don't want to see you hurt anymore!"

Underscoring Emma's plea, Kid Win shuffled forwards, pistols out but down at his sides.

"Taylor, Emms has told us so much about you. I know Dennis won't blame you for this. He's one of us that's been rooting for you the most. But you have to agree to come with us. I can set the containment field to a lower setting, but we have to know you won't try to break out."

Agitated, Taylor struck the cube again.

**InDIGnatioN!**

"**I did not hurt him. One of the troopers shot him!"**

Dovetail pushed ahead, glaring at Aegis and silently ordering him to stand down.

"Enough of this, all of you. Flask, you are hereby under arrest for the attempted murder of a law enforcement agent, for resisting arest, for vandalism, for assault of multiple law enforcement officers, for-"

Taylor slammed into the containment field again. Dozens of small tendrils had sprouted from her body and began to thrash about as Dovetail continued to list off charge after charge. It was intense enough that the field began to glow brighter and brighter.

"Shut up!" The pink heroine almost yelped when the twelve year old blonde Ward suddenly pulled her back. "Shut up you stupid woman! We're not dealing with some Merchant junkie or Empire thug, she's scared and hurt and you're making it worse!" Vista pulled Dovetail away from the cage, hissing as she did so. "Now get out of the fucking way and be _quiet_. You do _not_ know how to handle injured capes, we do. DD and Kid have this. So let them _work_."

"Vista, you are a Ward. You will let me go and stand down. Now!"

_SHHHHHHHHHH!_

Taylor smiled when she saw Vista stiffen.

A sizzling sound, akin to the hissing of a serpent, filled the maintenance room, causing the Wards and Hero to look down in horror as a mass of pink goo coalesced around the hard light projector. The gadget smoking and cracking as the slime coiled around it gave it a squeeze.

And crushed it.

It wasn't trivial, controlling part of her body cut off from the whole. But there was enough of her scattered across the room she had managed to eventually gather a single inch wide tendril, about two feet long, and guided it towards the hard light emitter. It didn't have enough mass, and Taylor didn't have enough control, to form an eye. So she had to rely on the vague sense of its direction from her main body.

Hardly simple, but as she fell from mid air, completely worth it.

And burst into motion, her mass warping into a more humanoid form as she dashed towards Kid Win and let out a vicious haymaker.

Only for him to warp out of existence, just like the others.

Which was fine.

Taylor just allowed her arm to stretch forward, slithering through the air and splitting into a multitude of tendrils, splitting like a spider's web as they spread over the group like a net. There was a brief disturbance, the feeling of sinking into cold water, a barrier attempting to block her out.

Then nothing, as her tendrils pierced through it.

"Shit!" Vista cursed as she, stutteringly, warped herself backwards. "She's covering the whole room, there's too much of her for me to warp us any where. They are going to box us in!"

Another massive tendril lashed out at the heroes, only clipping Dovetail in the shoulder, and the pink mass launched itself towards a broken machine, dragging her excess tentacles with her. Swiftly burrowing into the innards of the device, Taylor was concealed from the eyes of the heroes and protected from any possible attacks.

Aside from the groans of starining metal and a wounded heroine, the room was silent.

"What now?"

The Wards turned to look at Kid Win. No one said a thing.

He ducked under a stray tendril, quickly firing one of his energy pistols at the main mass. The blast bolt soared like lighting, piercing right through Taylor smoothly.

Far too smoothly.

No wail of anger or pain. No smoke or burning matter. Just a clean hole where the shot should have landed, and a burn mark on the wall behind the rampaging slime woman.

'She morphed around the shot!'

"How the Hell is she doing that!?"

Taylor didn't know who it was that screamed. And she didn't care. Instead, she sent out another volley of lashes.

It was like a sick game of cat and mouth. Her tendrils would lash out, coil and warp trying to reach the teenage heroes, only to be avoided by the skin of their teeth or batting them away with their electric batons. They would reposition themselves the best they could and the process would rinse and repeat, with Kid Win firing his laser pistols the whole time, the pulses of red light burning away chunks of her body every time Taylor failed to dodge.

**sLoW**

**WeAk**

**StUPiD**

Couldn't they just stand still!

She'd had enough. Enough of the empty platitudes and high and mighty advice. Enough of the emotional manipulation and argumentation. Enough of her body being seared through and blown to pieces.

_ENOUGH_

_WAS_

_ENOUGH._

Taylor recalled her tendrils, feeling her body strain as she compressed it and shot the extra limbs upwards. Punching through soft grating and then hard steel, she lodged her limbs in the roof above her. The enemy group paused. She _pulsed_. Ten seconds later a hundred square feet of pink flesh pulled and tore, the ceiling of the maintenance room screaming as it snapped in a thousand places.

Vista would make sure no one got squished that couldn't take it.

And if she didn't, well, Taylor still felt fire running through her body.

Turnabout was always fair play.

Chunks of debris came loose, then the whole thing. Riding the wave of the destroyed ceiling, Taylor fell in a wave and brought the sky with her. It was all the Wards could do to dodge the worst of it.

Ten seconds was all it took and she was moving once more, slithering across the uneven ground, hunting for what was left of the main water access valve. Clockblocker had been protecting it after all.

"Tay… lor."

She paused.

"Taylor."

A wet, hacking cough had her spinning in place and diving into the pile of destroyed oil rig, throwing huge chunks of it over her shoulder and eating anything that wouldn't budge.

"Taylor… sorry." Emma's rasp came out wet, she was hurt. Taylor could see a nasty cut on her forehead and bruises already forming on her face.

"You clipped me… when you came down. My power… flickered… right before I took a hit."

Wiping blood out of Emma's eyes, Taylor almost screamed at how pale she was.

"'S ok. I'll live. Once you go, I'll transform. That… always stops the hurt… till a doc can see… it."

Emma's blue, soft, _unfocused_ eyes fluttered.

"Go… on… Taylor. Save Canary. Love you… sis."

Her whole body shuddered.

"**Love you… sis."**

Taylor gave her friend one last hug and did what she'd been doing so much recently, she ran away. The only things behind her the sound of the Wards digging themselves out of the rouble and groans of pain.

She hated herself.

But that didn't matter now.

She was free and Paige was still in danger. By the end of this Taylor would gladly take her place in the Cage. But saving her friend came first.

Her body liquefied and dove straight down a pipe.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a certain timeline, a certain villain watched the monitors in his office with the eyes of a hawk. On his table laid a simple booklet marked as 'stage directions', pages upon pages of content marked down in patterns and colors that would make even the most mad of painters puce with jealousy.

Scattered around it were multiple files 'depicting' the actors of the script.

Villains.

Heroes.

Civilians.

Victims.

All marked down and accounted for, with in-depth descriptions of powers, psychology reports, with attached notes depicting previous engagements. Similarly, the files had several sections highlighted for convenience. The paint was even color coded, with blue, red, green, and black marking their own respective pages.

Let it not be said that Coil wasn't everything but through.

By the side of the large oaken desk was a coffee table, this one having a large set of chess pieces already mid game.

"Queen." He moved one of the black pieces. "Takes pawn."

And bumped one of the white pieces out of the table.

Watching as his latest acquisition tore its way out of the Rig, even if she didn't know it yet, while collapsing an entire floor on top of the Wards gave the man a deep sense of satisfaction. Really, what did Emily think? That just because her trainees had geared up and come up with possible ways to take down a Trump/Shifter hybrid didn't mean it would work.

Though they had, admittedly, put up a better fight than he had expected of them. Re-containment of Taylor might have even been possible if that "heroine" hadn't interfered.

'I will have to update their files… and note that Dovetail isn't the most competent leader out there.'

The result was still the same. Flask had successfully escaped the Rig and was now on her way to the city. Accord had, of course, traced the possible routes she could take and narrowed them down a few more likely scenarios. Which he had, of course, accounted for by positioning other pieces by the predicted exit points.

The best case scenario was that she would find her way to the Black King immediately. Though that outcome had a piteously low chance of nine percent.

Her chances of meeting with his precious Bishop were much better, standing at a respectable forty three percent according to the Plan while his Rook had twenty percent and his Knight had eighteen percent.

The last ten percent, however, were concerning. As that ended up with Flask landing herself right on top of Canary's current position. Something that he couldn't possibly allow before events had run their proper course.

Hence why he'd had the woman's transport… interrupted.

It had been a small thing, seeding a few agitators into the crowd. He hadn't even paid them. Merely found a few political activists known to be capable of carrying out violence, something he'd learned through the PRT, and then had a few of his mercenaries nudge them towards one another. Angry communists do love to riot, after all.

His leaking of evidence of official impropriety had simply ensured that they would act.

Simplicity itself.

'Never do for yourself what others can do for you.' Was a good way to encapsulate his work ethic as a cape.

Why invest his own time and effort on meticulously pulling every thread when he could just as easily just rig the game in his favor?

'Still….' He turned to a monitor to his left. 'There have been inconsistencies with some parts of the Plan.'

Accord would be angry when he learnt. Then again, it was simply impossible to account for every possible outcome and result with one hundred percent accuracy. Casualties were mounting far more quickly than expected.

A few capes amongst the lives lost.

Not that anyone would miss the likes of Oni Lee and Mush, of course.

But it _did_ mean they hadn't been captured. And it was possible, purely theoretically, that they _might_ have _eventually_ proved useful. Somehow. Calvert cared far less. Their deaths, in fact, were a net positive for him. An example that certain people wouldn't forget.

_He coughed, smoke filtering through his open mask as he stared at a raging inferno._

_Something, or someone, had gone wrong. Not with the Plan, of course not, but the collateral damage would near the upper limits of their estimation. Lung had… almost literally exploded and the BBFD was already over stretched, that meant they were struggling to contain the flames to the residential area on the northern edge of the town. Ghettos, mostly. And despite what some might think, the government _was not_ happy about that._

_Half of the buildings weren't to code, the other half were overcrowded._

_And right now, he and his men were barely keeping things contained._

_The new triggers, all three of them, had been simple enough to contain._

_A young man with saw blades was eventually calmed down by his mother, a new Brute had helped the BBPD with a nasty pile up by tearing his way out of the twisted wreck and dragging the other kids with him, another Brute had saved about a dozen people from a burning building despite being covered head to toe in horrific burns, and he'd splattered a Blaster's brains across the ground because the kid was an E88 thug and trying to kill cops._

_He was black, the hostile was a neo nazi, sue him._

_But right now none of that was helping him._

_Not that there was much he could do but help keep order and direct civilians towards the medical post that had been established past the line of burning buildings._

_Calvert couldn't help but wonder, did it make him a bad man that he didn't _feel_ anything seeing all of this human suffering. No joy or pride or pleasure. No empathy no sorrow no regret. When a woman with still smouldering hair, her skin streaked with soot and large burns pock marking her face, wobbled forward and reached out for help._

_His hands reached out on their own and caught her before she could fall. He still felt nothing._

Ultimately, he'd simply been prepared for tonight. Bots ready to spam social media with information on Paige and Taylor and a wonderful amount of dirty laundry on the PRT. His mercenaries were drilled and drilled and drilled and even now patrolled his territory, out in such force they literally had nothing noteworthy to report.

Each and every man still radioed in every fifteen minutes, of course.

But that was just the obvious face of the situation. Because the Travelers thumbed their nose at the ABB and the Undersiders publically humiliated the E88, the gangs were _forced_ to make a move. They had to respond or lose face. And his units had prepared the perfect escape routes, right into the docks, where the gangs would come into conflict with the remnants of the Merchants.

It was all too public, too on the nose to be forgotten.

Hard choices would be made and hard men would be sent to the Bay to make them.

Coil couldn't help the chuckle that came to his face when he saw Lung smash another building, taking a shoulder fired rocket to the face in turn. Miss Militia was bringing out the big guns, it seemed. Not that she wasn't the only one. The Protectorate had poured out en masse to respond to Lung's rampage, and roped New Wave into it for added support.

Armsmaster was leading a pretty admirable effort, all things considered.

Though it only amounted to a stalemate with the dragon man.

Hopefully Dragon herself would be cleared soon enough, it had been… three hours now. So long as she was permitted to provide support, it would take only a few moments to put the beast down. Hopefully. Lung was still ramping up even more.

And he had seen fit to prune every timeline where Flask ran into Lung earlier than strictly necessary.

Powerful as the man was, he would be only a particularly persistent sandbag before the girl's inordinately powerful combination of abilities. His fire would not harm her. Splattering her wouldn't do anything, as her body would just recompose itself without any lasting harm. Not to mention her ability to repurpose lost body mass by consuming debris.

Flask was the perfect counter. Yet, Lung was much more valuable as a distraction at the moment.

The moment he went down, the riots would cool, and the gangs would back off.

Cut off the head and all that.

Frankly… he didn't care.

His prize was breaking. Taylor Hebert was undergoing a severe emotional disturbance, something not too different from a psychotic episode, but even more prone to sudden mood swings. That was both good and bad. He'd wanted her to be unstable, easy to manipulate, but if she went too far he'd have to approach her from a different angle.

Dealing with an obsessive, emotionally damaged girl was always planned. But degrees would have to be considered.

Of course, she was a strong girl. The numbers didn't lie, he had trust that Taylor would rally. And once she'd liberated her friend, his men would ask her to aid Thomas Calvert and stop Lung. Which she'd do just before Dragon was cleared, of course.

A seven hour delay would be average for one of the Tinker's requests to operate in U.S. airspace. Mostly because of a combination of bureaucratic inertia and not totally unjustified paranoia. Of course, the PRT could expedite that. If Costa-Brown wanted to.

Coil owed those mad men another favor, but, well, the head director _was_ unavailable thanks to the Butcher.

Small mercies.

He chuckled.

_An emergency call fired up across the line, the screech of static causing Calvert to stumble as he and his team moved towards the site of Canary's transport. The transmission was jumbled and the voice seemed to cut in and out in a mess of words he couldn't make heads or tails of._

_'...esting rein...ments… Lun….damage! Breaking….containment…zo…! Challenger dead in…'_

_He stiffened, biting back a hiss of annoyance._

_Another unplanned death._

_It seems Lung's rampage had quickly escalated. Foregoing the man's usual slowburn tactics in favor of a fast burning attack. Too much damage to the city, likely not helped by the other gang attacks as well as the riots. The Dragon of Kyushu likely lost his temper and ramped up faster as a result._

_Tch! Damned blood knights._

_Wasting so many assets, so pointlessly. All for his rankled ego! Calvert almost understood. That didn't mean he cared. Still, she was transferring soon enough and Challenger had no real friends other than Dauntless._

_It was no great loss._

_Checking the chamber on his rifle, he felt a little happier knowing there was a steel jacketed 7.62 loaded in his gun. It wouldn't do more than tickle Lung, but it would put any gang enforcer in the ground._

_And his goal was rescuing a poor little precog right now._

_Dinah Alcott was another prize up for grabs tonight and she was currently in the hands of a group of violent ABB thugs. He'd go in hard and fast, tear them apart, and his team would become minor heroes overnight._

_With those men dead, they'd also never happen to accidentally spill the fact it was Coil that had contracted them to nab the girl._

_A purely happy coincidence, of course._

_This night was turning out to be quite profitable._

* * *

'This night is turning out to be a real pain in the ass!'

They made a sharp turn, wind whipping against Lisa's hair as her team charged through the streets of Brockton Bay, tearing asfalt into gravel as they clung to Bitch's mutant hound for their lives, the dogs pumping their legs as if Hell itself was after them.

And for once that wasn't a metaphor.

Stray bullets.

Handmade bombs.

Sharp disks flying out of nowhere and freaking lasers!

The city had turned into a warzone the moment the two gang's head honchos met and it hadn't let up for a second ever since. People scurrying away like rats at the feet of the giants who ruled Brockton Bay with an iron fist. The very same giants Tattletale and her friends had seen fit to poke right between the eyes.

Incredible how things could go so terribly wrong over the course of just a couple hours.

The initial plan had went off without a hitch. Just a normal hit and run routine. Strike fast and hard before leaving with the goodies. That part hadn't been the problem. People in this city were USED to the cape shenanigans that went off every couple of days. There was even insurance that covered for it.

So hitting a couple well off business was right up their alley.

Problem was, each and every place they hit had somehow been connected to a gang.

Not just a gang. It just had to be the one gang with the largest roster of capes available. The kind of criminal enterprise that took generations to be established and properly rooted into the city.

That was Empire Eighty-Eight.

And they just had pissed them off by attacking their 'protected' businesses.

In case you didn't notice, protected was a code for laundering. Money laundering business. You know, that sort of thing mobs did, and then put people six feet under because they somehow found out about it?

Yeah. That kind of business.

And Coil had them trash the places.

"He is still behind us!" Alec, no… Regent hollered from behind her. She was the one piloting the giant mutant attack dog, after all.

She dared not turn around, though.

The screech of metal on metal, the booming steps of a monster not unlike the ones you got from overpriced CGI flicks echoing through her ears.

'Not good.' She hissed as they made another turn, jumping over a burning car.

Only for it to get knocked over a few seconds later by twisting mass of metal blades, its much larger claws leaving deep scratches on the ground as it chased after them unimpeded. The hiss of a thousand knives grinding against each other on a mockery of a roar which drowning the world around it.

Hookwolf was as persistent as ever.

E88's top enforcer, known for his violent demeanor and bloodthirst. Hookwolf was one of the names you ran away from if you ever found yourself on Brockton Bay. The man was a headhunter shaped like a wolf made out of hooks and blades of all shapes and sizes.

Unstoppable. Relentless. And all over them.

Rachel, mounted atop another of her hounds, dashed closer to them.

"What now?!" She barked.

"Don't ask me!" She shouted, careful not to slip. "How could I know he would be at that shithole!?"

"You're the one supposed to know things!"

"Not _everything_!"

She was, of course, referring to one of the dog fighting rings Hookwolf owned and operated in the city. They weren't that high on the list when it came to Empire revenue. But Bitch had made it a point to strike at least one of them during their little rampage through town. Of course, they ended up hitting the one Hookwolf was currently overseeing.

One thing led to another. Hurtful words were said.

Bullets were fired.

And now they were trying to shake off one of the few capes they couldn't afford to fight off. Then again, there wasn't a whole lore most capes could do to a swirling vortex of heavy death metal. She was a non-entity, Regent was useless against him and Grue's power only worked when the target was stationary. Throwing shadow clouds didn't exactly work when all the man had to do was to keep running.

The only thing keeping them from being skewered were Brutus, Judas, and Angelica. Bless their furry hides.

"We need to-"

"_Aroooo!"_

One of the dogs yelped and went tumbling, thankfully not one their team was riding, but Bitch turned in her seat and snarled nonetheless. Hookwolf leapt onto the downed canine and began to savage it, tearing into it's stomach with his "snout".

"No! Dammit! Stop!"

Lisa knew it was a trap. She also knew it was too late.

The dog Master turned to face Hookwolf and screamed out a challenge. One he all too eagerly returned. Lisa fired her power up for a split second and that was all she needed to know that the two were about to settle their rivalry once and for all.

"Grue!"

Lisa's scream got her leader's attention, a thick wave of inky blackness spewing forth to cover Bitch's sudden, enraged charged. Tattletale wouldn't hold out hope it would do more than slow her down. But, when Regent saw the opening, he forced Hookwolf to stumble. When his snout dipped and his metallic torso began to falter Bitch, astride Brutus, leapt out of the black cloud and slammed into the nazi cape.

For a moment it looked like that, between Brutus and the wounded dog, Hookwolf was pinned the moment of vulnerability being all it took to catch him out.

And then a high pitched whistle announced the arrival of a young white woman with a blonde buzz cut. How she managed to pop out of an alley and nail Regent in the face with one of her kamas, not even Lisa's power knew. But when blood started splurting from a large gash that dug through his mask she paled.

_Shallow. Non lethal. Will bleed a lot._

For a moment, she was almost relieved. Then Alec screamed again.

_Extremely painful._

The dogs stopped moving and it took her a second to realize why.

Bitch, with two other of the freshly liberated pit dogs backing her up, was fighting Hookwolf fang and claw for the wound dog-lizard-mutant thing that he'd disemboweled. The long ropes of fleshy intestines hanging off his body almost made Sarah vomit. Instead, she just watched in horror as the veteran thug gathered himself and slashed out at the dogs slamming into him.

Without Regent keeping Hookwolf off balance the bastard's experience could shine through.

In that moment, she made a decision.

"Regent! Stop screaming! It's not fatal, but if she guts you we're all dead."

Alec didn't stop hollering, but he did start waving his taser baton around. Lisa wanted to scream herself, instead, she met Brian's eyes. Shining from the depths of his mask, she was… terrified that she saw trust in that soft brown gaze. Swinging around, Lisa hopped off of Angelica, pulling Regent with her, before pushing him into an on rushing Cricket.

They went down in a tangle of limbs and Lisa pulled her pepper spray from her waistband. Loosening the cap on the bottle, she waited until Cricket pushed Alec off of her, planting her boot into his gut, before tossing the loosened bottle right into the nazi's face.

The blonde woman's screams of rage almost drowned Alec's moans of pain and the fighting dog's howls of battle.

Grue didn't wait for a command. Another blast of darkness covered them and the pseudo biker was on top of Cricket, kicking and punching with a barely controlled fury. Of course, the Mover slashed back. Her aerokinesis granted echolocation meant her blows were accurate, and powerful, but Bryan trusted in the strength of his armor.

At the end of the day, he was a large, powerful man and Cricket was a relatively petite woman. Even if she could move _faster_ he was still stronger. And in pain from having her sight ruined, under brutal assault from someone who was younger, healthier, and less distracted Cricket suffered for it. All of that added up to Lisa scooping up Regent's fallen "scepter". Cocking her arm back, she waited until Grue pushed the nazi straight at her, something her power made out from the sounds of scraping boots, and slammed the taser straight into Cricket's gut.

Grinding it into the woman's stomach, Lisa told herself she didn't smell pork cooking as the nazi hit the ground. _Hard_.

Turning around, she motioned for Grue to come with her.

"We'll be right back Alec. The slash isn't too bad." She handed the Master his tool back. "So just try not to move too much or you might bleed to death. Ok?"

He flipped her off, even as he used his other hand to keep his ruined mask covering his face. Letting Hookwolf get a look at their face was literally the worst thing they could do at this point. And even though his face was half painted with his own blood, even though what skin she could see was pale, there was something in his eyes. Beneath the sociopathic detachment, behind the mocking cruelty, there was… a flicker of trust.

Lisa swore he'd survive tonight.

"Grue." She handed Regent his weapon, even as she reached into the small pouch located on the back of her waist. "Bring Cricket."

He grunted as she pulled her pistol. Neither of them said a thing when Regent gave Cricket a nice, hard wack in the ribs before Grue kicked her weapons away and picked her up.

"Hookwolf!" Lisa grimaced, even as she put her gun to Cricket's temple. "That's enough."

Half of the dogs were just dead. What Lisa thought was Angelica was missing her back legs and half of her face, but seemed to be breathing. Brutus was missing his snout and his back was twisted around, but he too was alive. She just didn't see Angelica. The rest… were not intact enough any more.

Rachel's power was amazing, her dog's would be cured of any injuries, no matter how horrific, if they were restored to their normal condition.

That required them to be alive.

And for her to be alive, too.

Currently, she was pinned beneath the bulk of Hookwolf's canine body, both of her hands impaled by large spikes and a twisted claw slicing up the side of her cheek. From what Lisa could see she'd also been slashed along her torso, perhaps a hint of intestine or stomach, her power wasn't entirely sure, but she was in a bad way. The kind of bad way where it would take a damn good doctor or Panacea to save her.

They'd stolen a little more than two and a half million dollars in cash and valuable goods, most of which was attached to the missing Angelica, by hitting a chain of jewelers, pawn shops, drug houses, and by stealing the dog fighting ring's betting pool.

Lisa was ready to give that up if it meant saving her team.

"Here's what we're going to do. You're going to let her go, very slowly-" She cocked the hammer on her glock. "and I don't splatter Cricket's brains across the concrete."

A loud chuff was the monster's answer.

"Little piggy, little piggy, little piggy. I'm gonna eat. You. Up."

Lisa's eyes widened, even she pulled the trigger.

The bullet slammed into the road as she went down, hard, from a brutal strike to the back of her knee. Pulling her arm under her body, she managed to get her gun under her body and her finger off the trigger before she hit the ground. Rolling, she came up just in time to watch as Hookwolf began _pulling_ Bitch in two directions, laughing while Cricket came up with a small knife to attack Grue with.

Lisa ramped her power up as much as it would go.

It told her a hundred ways to kill both of her enemies.

Even as a trickle of blood began to drip down her nose, she knew she'd be too slow.

A tremor shook the ground beneath them, cracks spreading through the street much like a spider's web. Lisa barely caught herself from falling, the ground itself writhing a pulsing like the contractions of some earthen womb. The tremor had silenced them, bringing things to a tense staredown as _something_ approached, even Rachel falling silent, refusing to cry out in pain even as metal hooks dug into her flesh.

A second passed. And the ground underneath Hookwolf exploded in a shower of concrete, and sewage. It seemed at first like a bomb, only for a massive, undulating mass of pink tendrils to gush out of the destroyed sewer grate like a geyser, coiling like serpents around the Empire cape as a figure climbed out.

Before her very eyes, metal disappeared, the hulking monster of death flickering out of existence to give way to a scarred, tattooed blonde man that seemed all too suddenly aware his power was no longer working..

_Splat!_

He lasted barely a second. Bitch fell to the ground, rolling a little, as her dogs suddenly melted away, the normal canines pushing free of the slurry to stand around her protectively.

Tiny chunks of red meat filled the air for a moment and the world stood still as something Lisa could only describe as a monster tore its way out of the ground. It was about as tall as a bus and made from the same pink fluid that even now gushed out of the opening on the thing, whatever it was, was faintly humanoid, with legs, arms, a head and a torso.

Only that's where the similarities stopped.

Two pairs of oversized arms scraped against the ground, scythe-like fingers digging into solid concrete with disturbing ease. Its main body constantly bubbled and shifted, forming patterns she could scarcely keep up with. From the crown of its… peaked crest sprouted many tentacles, still slick with blood.

The most horrifying part was the head.

Misshapen, caught between beast and man, a fanged maw stretched over the being's skull, the upper side looking like similar to a woman, with the lower half being nothing but thin bladed teeth. A thousand needles poised to strike as it roared angrily towards the sky.

_**"PAAAAAAAAAAAIGE!"**_

* * *

**AtW: A short postscript. I start college this coming Monday, so there may be a bit of a wait until the next chapter. Wyvern and I will do our best however, so let's hope everything goes smoothly!**

**Wyvern: Also, a quick shout out to all our readers. Apparently fanfiction has been behaving weird regarding PMs these past few weeks. If you have messaged either one of us and we responded, its likely that you won't receive a notification to make sure to check your PM Inbox.**

**\- Wyvern and the Warhawk**


	12. Chapter 11

**AN: Hello! Hello! Welcome back faithful readers! It's time for the next installment of everybody's favorite slime girl adventure, Flask! Brought to you by Wyvern and his persistent assistant, the Warhawk.**

**AtW: We've got good news and bad news. The good news is that we're really happy with the story and are nearing the climax of this arc. Maybe… three? Four more chapters? Not too many more. The bad news is that he and I are both quite wiped out. I've actually seriously neglected some of my schooling this semester for various reasons and I'm going to have to play catch up. He's also dealing with school and work. Expect it to be at least two weeks before we get the next chapter out. If it's sooner, it's a miracle born of our love for you guys.**

**Wyvern: As always, make sure you tell us how much you love us and worship our work through the offering of reviews. Or don't, but then I might get depressed and brood for a couple of days. Do remember to check your PM's for Alvor's replies.**

**Now, onto the show!**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Brockton Asunder (Part 3)**

* * *

Flying was the ultimate freedom.

A secret joy not meant for humans.

The rush of wind against one's face, the warmth of the sun on their backs. No feeling in the world could quite compare to it, a forbidden pleasure that belongs to those who were born to it. It was a truly special feeling. Something you couldn't hope to describe unless you felt it for yourself.

And Victoria was starting to get sick of it.

The smell of smoke.

The sound of screaming and pistols going off all over the city. The normally calming sight of Brockton from above marred by fire. The city was collapsing on itself and Victoria had the best seat in the house to see it happening.

Cars overturned.

Houses, buildings, and stores vandalized.

It looked like something out of a horror movie, the only thing missing being zombies roaming the streets, and she was not about to count herself lucky just yet. With how her day was turning out, there was still plenty of ways it could get even worse.

Her family almost had a collective heart attack when the emergency sirens started blaring out from the rooftops. The system normally meant to warn of an impending Endbringer attack had been triggered as a response to the city wide panic and Vicky couldn't help but feel it was well deserved.

Gangs and rioters took control of the streets.

Capes fighting with no concern for what was happening around them while criminals and psychos from all walks of life came out to play as Brockton Bay descended into chaos.

The Protectorate's call arrived just as they had geared up to leave the house, the officer on the other end of the line doing his level best to convey just how badly the situation had gone and where they were most needed.

As per usual, Amy had been delivered straight to the hospital, one of the most well guarded facilities in the city. Anyone trying to do something funny would run into a full squad armed to the teeth as well as a pair of pissed off heroes.

Let it not be said that Assault and Battery couldn't be scary when they wanted to.

They weren't even the only ones pulling the most work.

Vicky had ran into Velocity half a dozen times by now, catching glimpses of the speedster as he ran triple duty around the bay putting out fires and laying out problems before they could grow out of control. The police had to set up containment zones outside just to house all the culprits being caught and turned in, the cells having already reach max capacity.

Honestly, the problem was two fold. After the wide ranging busts against the Merchants, the local police had broken the gang up and spread it out as much as possible. Mooks were sent to any nearby jails or prisons that could hold them, mostly to break the gang up and prevent it from starting a prison riot, and the captured junkie capes were held in cells on the Rig. But what that meant was that there just wasn't anywhere to take the people being arrested!

After the violence had started, a lot of protestors fled, while the ones that turned into a riot were pulled in multiple directions. That meant the PRT and the police had been able to isolate and arrest each section on their own. Standard tactics for the first couple times they pulled that. Then it occurred to someone to do a count of how many people they had.

In the end, the last number she had heard was that something in the neighborhood of five thousand arrests had been made. And the night was _far_ from over.

Swooping down, she came to a stop right next to a police officer, the only noise she made being the light click of her shoes on the asphalt.

"Sir, what do you need help with?"

The man did a double take.

"Glory Girl? Is that… are you ok?"

She shook her head.

"The blood isn't mine." That was a half lie. Most of it wasn't hers. Instead of her pristine, shining self she was grimy. Her tiara had been lost hours ago, her hair was singed and covered in ash with a few chunks torn out, her makeup was ruined as streaks of grime and a few droplets of blood she hadn't been able to get off completely covered her face like a clown's face paint, and her clothes had been _trashed_. Her cape was gone, lost in a burning building, her dress was mostly in tatters, and if she hadn't had her aura it would probably have gone totally.

The only reason she wasn't covered in burns and slashes and missing chunks of skin was because she'd been visiting her sister throughout the night to receive touch ups.

Her hands suddenly flared with pain, Victoria gritting her teeth as she remembered diving through the window of a burning building, wrapping a pair of small children in several blankets, and then flying through the walls to escape. The first time her aura had been popped in public. And the first time she'd been meaningfully hurt since she'd triggered.

It had been the impact that caused her abilities to stutter, giving the burning debris time to melt what had been the sleeves of her costume into her skin.

Somehow she'd been able to fly to Amy who'd fixed her up.

Mostly. She hadn't put all the nerves back. And that's how Vicky knew the pain was just a phantom, just a memory. Gritting her teeth, she didn't let out a sound for a moment before she calmed. The cop was staring at her in worry, probably because she'd been so quiet for so long, but the man looked disturbed. It didn't bother Glory Girl. People had freaked out way more when she'd stumbled in with her skin literally peeling off in strips. Or when her chest had been gouged into by a four inch nail. Or how she nearly lost a leg when an exploding boiler sent her spinning, the concussive wave popping her shield, and drove a chunk of metal six or seven inches into the meat of her thigh.

She let out a dark laugh. That had been a close one.

"The dispatcher said you had a hostage situation? Empire trash and an asian family? What do you want me to do?"

Frowning, the man pointed to the entrance of the building, surrounded by what few police cars they could spare.

"The negotiators are keeping them busy, pretending to listen to their demands. But we don't have enough people to either hold them down or take them out. You have an aura right? Do you think you can handle this?"

"Maybe?" Vicky shook her head. "I'll just try and wrap this up quickly. There's a wreck at Acacia and Mountain so… I guess be ready to follow me."

Twelve hours ago, Victoria would have flown through the roof. All shock and awe. Right now, the thought of flying made her queasy. So, sighing and cursing the Empire in her head, she walked to the door of the building, gave it a short knock for manner's sake, twisted the doorknob out with a pop and took a step in.

"Hello there~"

_BANG!_

She didn't scream when the bullet ricocheted off her forehead. Instead, she just sighed and cranked her aura up to max.

"Put the gun down, please."

The six foot two, three hundred and fifty pound nazi pointing a .45 at her pissed himself. A foul smell told her he had then proceeded to do worse than that. He dropped the gun, the thing going off again and bouncing off into the darkness. Vicky cranked her fear aura _ever_ so slightly more and the man's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and his tattoo covered body hit the ground with a large_ thump_.

Vicky didn't use her aura like that very often. Sure, using fear to take down criminals had been her M.O for as long as she'd been a cape. But her mother had always warned her that it was quite powerful and therefore dangerous.

Masters always were.

Hence why she preferred short doses of her power. It made for a safer and less…messy way to win. The past few hours, however, had proven quite tiring. And shown Glory Girl that sometimes overkill was exactly what she needed to solve her problems.

If only the results weren't so… offensive.

"That was… disgusting." Her lip curled in disgust. She turned back to the apartment's Super's office. "Alright, I know you're in there. That there's four of you. Here's how we're going to do this. You let the family out, unharmed. After that, you will put all your weapons in a bag or container of some kind. Once you do that, you will leave the bin in plain view and come out one by one. If you do _not_ do this, I will rearrange your internal organs until I'm bored or I think Panacea can't put you back together. You have to the count of… ten? Nah, five. You have to the count of five to release the hostages."

Loudly counting out, slowly enough the assholes could hear her, Victoria finally took a look around. The apartment was shot to hell, an overall mess not helped by the… smelly body she had just dropped. The furniture was either upturned or laying flat against the walls, a dinner table taking up most of the space to act as some sort of shield. The bullet holes in it couldn't have meant much else.

Windows were broken, glass peppering the ground like snow, large pieces reflecting light from outside off the ground and towards the ceiling.

It was a shit hole. Before it got shot up. After? Well… Victoria hoped they had good insurance. Lots of places had crime related insurance going on, and some of the pricier avenues even afforded the parahuman insurance. Premiums were most likely gonna skyrocket after the last few hours.

She… might have tried the whole 'dropping through the ceiling' plan once or twice since the manhunt started. Then there was that one jewelry she fell into after getting caught into one of Oni Lee's suicide vest blasts.

Her shield saved her.

But the store? Not so much….

"Five! Ok, time's up. I hope you like large objects shoved up your ass. About the size of your friend's head, if you get what I'm going after."

A loud burst of gunfire tore through the wall. Dropping to the floor, she waited until the bullets finished chewing through the room at torso level. Letting her power pull her forward, Victoria flew forward and up, righting herself, and then unleashed her aura at full blast once more.

"Stand down!"

Of the four men, all carrying firearms of various makes and models, three dropped their guns. The last one began wildly spraying bullets in her direction. Victoria bobbed and weaved, only the occasional shot pinging off her shield, before striking out with her hand. Yanking the pistol out of the man's hand, she ignored his screaming and the ruin of his mangled fingers. She just kicked him in the gut, slamming his body into the wall, before rounding on the other three.

They scurried back, eyes wide with fear.

"At least you didn't shit yourself. Now. Where are they?"

No one said anything. She ramped her aura up again.

"I said, _where are they!_"

One of the skinheads shakily pointed to his back, a small door that was barricaded with a washing machine. There were scuff marks on the floor, meaning they were halfway through dragging it off. Probably to turn the hostages into human shields against her.

The realization made her blood boil.

A flash of anger was all the group of lawbreakers felt before they dropped unconscious. The young hero tied them together, dropping the human sacks of shit into the living room before returning to the laundry.

"Hey!" Victoria stuck her head out the door way. "I've got them tied up. Come on over. I'll get the hostages out."

Already moving into the main room, the cops filtered around Vicky as she took a deep breath, pulling back her aura and allowing its calming effects to come forth. She was once told that while her fear aura was akin to staring down a dangerous predator, like a bear or a lion. Meanwhile, her calming aura was referred to as being given a heavy duty anesthetic.

She didn't like it.

Not as much as her other auras. Mostly because of the unfortunate reminder that she was, after all, a Master. And she never could shut it off totally. No matter how much she pulled back on it, her aura was always there, always influencing everyone around her. Except her family, of course, and she thanked God for that.

"The hostages are in a back room, it's over there and there's a washing machine blocking it. Let me go in first and I'll bring them out." The grown men nodded their assent to the teenaged girl. Odd to anyone who didn't understand what being a Hero meant. And even if she didn't _feel_ even human, Victoria looked like one right now.

Pulling the washer out of the way, she knocked on the door to the back room.

"Hello? Are you ok? Can you hear me? It's Glory Girl, from New Wave."

There was no response and her heart twinged in fear.

'Please be ok, please be ok.'

Eyes open, no matter how much she wanted to shut them, she motioned the emergency personnel back.

"I'm coming in now."

Screams echoed from the back of the room and a short Chinese man, a large gash on his face, holding a chair leg up like a bat. He screamed something in cantonese and Vicky just smiled.

"Officer Cheng, could you come in here?"

There was just a tickle of her aura slipping out and she raised her hands. Frankly, the only thing she cared about was that the family was ok. As the cop came in, hands up too, he calmed the man down and the family was ushered out. The wife and three kids were scared, quietly crying even, but they were all ok. No one had anything worse than a bruise or the cut on the guy's face.

Quietly slipping away, she flew into the sky without another word. Pulling out her cell phone, she called the PRT's affiliate hotline and waited until she was patched through to the dispatcher.

"-lory Girl! Glory Girl! Can you hear me?!"

The voice was frantic, the backdrop of running water nearly drowning it as if it were raining. More concerning was the fact she was being called directly. That meant something bad enough to spook pretty much everyone had happened.

"This is Glory Girl. What's the situation?"

There was a screech of static and more water.

"-reak out! There's been a break out at the Rig!" The officer blared through the noise. The ringing of alarm sirens and the roar of explosions echoing across the line. "It's chaos out here! Skidmark and Squealer have somehow cobbled together an attack helicopter. Half of the brig is flooded and we are still digging out the Wards, Flask took them down."

'Shit.'

"Are they ok? Any casualties?"

"Only one, Clockblocker is being treated right now but we _need_ flier support. Swing past City Hall and pick up a radio from the staging area. Your team will be on channel three."

"Understood." Vicky hung up, turning in mid air, and rocketing away.

'I hope Dean and Emma are ok.' Her boyfriend and best friend, Amy was her sister and super favorite, adorable, cute, little sibling, were tough. But getting buried in rubble was never fun. Even worse, Emms had mentioned how Taylor, her friend, was a Trump. And not in the best… mind set. Not that the girl would _try_ to hurt anyone, surely not, but accidents happened.

As for the Merchant's….

Victoria growled and sped up, pushing her powers as hard as she could.

"Acceptable _fucking_ targets!"

It was time to vent.

* * *

Canary… wanted to laugh. She would have laughed, if she hadn't been so utterly terrified that she'd gone white knuckled around the taser the troopers had given her. John, the wounded one, was propped up on the far bench and was cradling a shotgun while Sylvester, the trooper that had been the first to react, was standing outside the van with a shouldered, if lowered, rifle. And despite that, she still had no idea what was going to happen.

A veil of ash and thick, dark rain clouds hung heavy in the night sky..

The sound of gunshots split the night. It wasn't constant, but every so often a loud crack would echo in the distance. Once, she thought she saw a massive, alien monstrosity, wreathed in smoke and flame, stomp through Brockton Bay in the distance. This was not her home, it was almost alien to her seeing as she'd been in a cell the entire time she'd been here. But watching the great black plumes of choking smoke and hearing the wail of almost inaudible sirens and the thunder of war was… harrowing.

Despite everything she had gone through since she was arrested, Paige had gone through emotional turmoil the likes of which very few people could attest to. It was a harsh feeling, being demonized and made an example of just to prove someone's point, knowing millions upon millions of people thought she should be _killed_. Yet she'd chosen to fight back for as long as she could for her freedom.

Not that it had worked in the end.

Yet for all her struggles, Paige had still been a fairly sheltered young woman, without having experienced much of the violence which surrounded the world of parahumans. Everyone knew that there were dangers involved and everyone knew someone who suffered at least once because of it.

But seeing the results first hand.

The chaos. The destruction. The stories most took for granted about the monsters who shared their world.

They were true. All of them.

How is someone supposed to cope with it? With knowing that any moment could make the difference between life and death?

A dozen motorcycles, engines still humming, as a group of bikers, each and every one of them visibly armed, surrounded a black SUV.

"This is Lieutenant Sylvester of the PRT, you are approaching an official transport! We have suffered an accident, you will stay back for your own safety!"

If nothing else, the good LT barked orders like a drill sergeant. Canary… hoped it would be enough. The loud guffaws from the men, however, told Paige that is was not. Two men, wearing suits, stepped out of the SUV, from the rear of the vehicle, and walked to the front of the group with guns in hand.

"You don't seem to understand your situation. And I can see yellow feathers Mr. Cat. That means you've got yourself a tweety bird back there. Am I right?"

Tensing, the trooper's rifle bobbed up before he brought it under control again.

"Sir, leave this place. _Now_."

"Frank." The two men ignored the guy, one gesturing for a biker to get off his machine. "Go see if Tommy got what was coming to him. That was his truck up there."

Sylvester's rifle snapped up.

"Halt! Now! I will open fire!"

Holding up his hands, the biker shook his head.

"Woah man. We're just going to see if the snitch is dead. Everything else is between you and the boss."

Frank kept walking. The trooper pulled back, closer to the van, and kept everyone in his sight.

"Shit man. Tommy's fucking puree. This fucker's dead, dead. Like, closed casket dead."

The biker came back around the vehicle, looking a little green.

"Boss" smirked and turned back to Sylvester.

"Well, he's what we came here for. But you know, a cape like her, she's… valuable. Hookwolf escaped a cage transport twice, you know? So how about this. I've got about two million in cash and drugs. All yours. Just hand her over and we can all walk away."

Canary tensed. Would the man sell her out to protect his buddy? Would she end up in the Empire's claws? She hadn't heard much about them, being a local gang, but Taylor had mentioned they had "rumored" connections to Gesellschaft. And everyone knew who _they _were.

"I'm sorry, sir, but no." Sylvester's rifle snapped up. "Now kindly fuck off."

Paige deflated in relief, watching the group and trying to keep an eye on their guns as the bikers climbed off their motorcycles.

They were very well armed. Too well, in fact.

Then again, with Brockton Bay becoming a warzone, it was just natural that people would bring out the big guns to level the playing field.

"That's a shame." Suit one and suit two turned around and climbed back into the vehicle. As they closed the door, suit one, "Boss", called out over his shoulder. "Whoever brings me the girl gets paid triple and can have first go at her. Better to break a Master in before we let her sing."

It was a twig thin, completely bald man with a large hole in his cheek that brought his gun up first. Sylvester was trying to keep the other side of the group inside his vision. Canary screamed, the noise coming out as a garbled mess. Thankfully Johnny, the wounded trooper, saw where she was pointing.

His shotgun let out a bark, a solid slug punching through the guy's chest.

The rest of the bikers screamed in anger and opened fire in a blind panic. Because he was sitting in the floor and keeping quiet, none of them had noticed the second soldier and one of their own had just died. Sylvester, however, did not. Instead, he dropped to a knee and emptied his rifle across the group.

Only a few of the thugs were hit, and only one seemed to have died, but the rest of them fell to the ground behind their machines to take cover. Johnny took the opportunity to blow the head of the first person to pop back up and Sylvester had his rifle reloaded in a second.

Leaping up and to the side, the trooper moved at an angle and forward, slicing the pie Paige thought it was called, and continued to put short, controlled bursts into the face or chest of anyone stupid enough to peak up.

Unfortunately, the windows of the SUV rolled down and the barrel of a submachine gun stuck out. A rapid blast of fire hit Sylvester in the chest, knocking him onto his back.

Seeing this, the group of eight or so remaining bikers tried to swarm the man. Johnny, however, dropped the shotgun and let loose with his handgun. Sixteen barks dropped another two and clipped a third man, the rest opening fire on the van. The rounds almost hit Paige, causing her to scream when one bullet came so close it pinged off her muzzle.

Pain, almost like a broken jaw, blossomed.

By this point, Sylvester had managed to draw his side arm too. Rapidly firing into the group of advancing men, he managed to down another three, but the last two advanced on him with shotguns of their own. Hoping to use the close range to overcome his heavy body armor, one shot him in the arm, tearing into his uniform and forcing him to drop his gun, while the other aimed at his head.

Paige didn't realize she'd fired until the man suddenly seized up, shotgun discharging into the dirt and a pellet or two pinging off the side of the trooper's helmet.

Johnny had evidently reloaded, as his handgun left the two idiots bleeding and on the ground. The rest of his mag was directed towards the SUV, cracking the obviously reinforced glass but not doing too much more. When he brought his shotgun up, the slugs punched through. Each loud blast heralding another blossom of blood and a fist sized chunk torn out of the vehicle. Sylvester joined him soon enough and emptied another magazine into the vehicle

When the barrage ended, there wasn't much left besides the pained groans of the few survivors bleeding out on the ground.

Even that stopped when Sylvester climbed to his feet, calmly reloaded his pistol, and pumped two rounds into every man still alive. Each round made Canary jump. Somehow more intense than the entire gun battle had been.

Walking over to the van, he collapsed against the back of the vehicle and pulled his helmet off with one hand, his right arm bleeding from a number of large tears in the uniform, gun sitting on the ground next to him. Very much in easy reach.

Paige's heart hammered against her chest, ears echoing with thunder as she took an unsteady breath.

In and out.

In.

Out.

Her skin felt clammy with sweat. Her eyes burning with angry tears, though she suspected she had gone into shock some time ago and just stopped emoting all together. There was only so much a normal person, even a parahuman, could see before they just disconnected from reality.

She knew the carnage before her certainly classified.

It wasn't like in the movies, with long drawn out action sequences with downtime for a quick chat and one liners. This had been fast, unrelenting, and violent to the point the gun fight couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes. Not even a handful.

And the smell. God, the smell was horrible.

The exhaust from the motorcycles. The stink of gunpowder still lingering around the kill site. The blood slowly leaking out of the bodies as they died. The entrails, muscle, and bone exposed to the outside world making it feel as if she'd just walked into a horror movie.

Too much.

It was_ too much_.

She staggered over to the two troopers, their forms taut with stress, watching to make sure the gang members were completely, perhaps to make sure none of them could try something funny. Truthfully, they didn't seem to be handling the situation any better than she was.

Looking like statues, stiff with worry while looking for any sign of trouble. It was almost like a trance. Johnny had even dragged himself over to sit next to Sylvester, the two barely moving.

Her hands clenched, nails digging on her palms.

"You two." She ran over to the two wounded troopers. "Are you alright?"

'Worn out' was perhaps a better way to describe the duo. Johnny was still sitting against the group, his breathing looking hurried, his face set in a grimace of pain. As if he had pulled a particularly painful muscle.

Sylvester was doing better off, though he clutched his chest in pain, likely the area where he'd gotten shot. Fortunately there was no blood in sight, otherwise Paige felt she might have fainted out of shock.

Johnny moved first, shuffling slightly in place.

"We're okay. Feeling like shit, but okay. What about you?"

Sylvester gave a shaky nod.

"Yeah, just a spook. The Kevlar underweave took most of it. I don't think they even penetrated too far into the trauma plate. And my arm fucking hurts but I'll keep it.."

Climbing to his feet, the trooper clipped his helmet to his belt.

"Miss, can you help Johnny walk? I think I have a broken rib or something and my arm's not… good enough to take his weight. There should be bag in there with emergency supplies. Grab it and hand it over. Then we can get Johnny out of there."

Paige felt her body collectively sigh in relief, spasms running through every inch of her body. She stepped closer, finding what he was looking for, and tentatively grabbed a first aid kit, the two belts of extra ammunition she saw, and a case of rifle rounds before stuffing it into the bag.

"That's all I could find… I… thank you. For all of that. Both of you."

She couldn't look at the troopers, not with her eyes blurry as they were with tears. The salty droplets running down her cheeks and into the ground. The two men grunted in response, Sylvester responding.

"You saved my ass out there. It's just fair, that."

Chuckling, Johnny waved her off.

"Don't worry lady. It's our duty. But fuck, I'm reporting this to medical. I want to get benefits for this shit after I get out."

The other man snorted back a laugh.

"Johnny, you stub your toe and report it to medical."

"Fuck yeah I do! I ain't gonna not get medical comp for this crap."

Groaning, Sylvester slid the pack onto his back and looped the carrying strap of his rifle across his shoulders.

Johnny punched his friend in his gunshot, getting a loud yelp and middle finger. This just had the younger man laughing his ass off. Shaking his head, Sylvester helped Johnny climb to his feat, the other man looping the shotgun around his shoulders before leaning on Canary's.

"How far are we?" She hedged a question, voiced groaning from the distorter.

"Gas station is just a mile or two back towards town. Shouldn't take too long."

Paige smiled.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

The trio took a tentative step forward, awkward and clumsy, but it wasn't that long until they found their rhythm.

They had a long road ahead of them, but, even as the sky was on fire, Paige… felt something in her gut that told her there was a chance.

'Maybe I'm just delusional… I look like Ziz. But… I wouldn't mind being a hero.'

* * *

Taylor burst out of the ground with a triumphant roar, the world coming into focus as she squeezed herself out of the sewer system and exploding out of a manhole. Quite literally bursting into the world once more. Though it was already dark out, she could feel a light breeze caressing her 'skin', the chill of the wind slowly drawing her out of the trance she'd fallen into since escaping the Rig even as echoes of the screams she'd heard echoed in her ears.

She'd been navigating through the sewer system once she'd made landfall, mostly working through the Boat Graveyard and then the sewers propper once she'd reached it. Unfortunately, she'd largely been moving on instinct, in a near fugue state, and simply kept crawling forward. She had picked up a significant amount of… mass, easily making her ten or perhaps even twenty times the weight she had been when she'd first escaped her cell.

Considering she'd been totally lost and far, far too panicked to think clearly Taylor had simply kept moving forward.

Eventually, though, she'd felt more than hard heavy, violent impacts in the distance. Lacking for any other option, Taylor pursued them. On the way, she'd encountered much smaller, lighter impacts sending vibrations through her meters and meters and meters of pink slime. And then she'd heard the screams.

It was around that time that her memory grew hazy. Aside from a few flashes mostly involving the odd, unlucky insect or rat getting caught up in her endless advance she didn't recall feeling _anything_. Not except for a massive flash of anger and things suddenly breaking underneath her raw, crushing weight.

'That's not good. I've lost control of myself twice tonight. I… what does that mean?'

Going on a rampage still sounded as horrible as when she first thought about it, no matter how much she prevericated.

She knew it had been a bad idea to burst out of her cell and rampage through the regional PRT Headquarters. Taylor wasn't stupid after all. She was just so far beyond caring that she would do anything but stay put as her friend was carted off to a life sentence amongst the worst mankind had to offer.

Taylor wouldn't… couldn't_ not _do anything about it.

So yes, just another addition to the long list of bad decisions she'd made since becoming a cape. Fighting the Wards a second time hadn't been any fun either, mostly because this time she was fully cognizant and aware of her choices.

She chose to escape.

She chose to fight her way out. To fight _Emma_.

And when the time came, she chose to drop a ceiling on top of her and the Wards.

An uncomfortable sensation rippled through her body, a cold void opening in her chest area much like a gaping maw. Anger, guilt, sadness, despair. A cocktail of unpleasantness she had been getting used more and more ever since she triggered inside that locker.

If this wasn't the final nail in her coffin, she didn't know what would be.

"Excuse me, uh, mam… may I help my friend?"

Spinning on the spot, Taylor finally took in her surroundings. There was a woman kneeling in front of a large skull helmeted biker, a blonde girl in a purple jumpsuit, a lot of dead… monster lizard things, and….

"Oh! Is she ok? What happened to her?"

Rushing over to the young woman only a few feet from her, Taylor cursed herself for her not paying more attention. Young, stocky, pretty badly scarred but… pretty enough. In a violent sort of way. She was maybe a couple years older than Taylor herself and bleeding from her palms, her stomach, and several slashes along her legs.

"Bitch was about to be torn apart by Hookwolf. Thanks for saving her, by the way."

Blinking, Taylor enveloped the wounded, bleeding girl with her mass, pointedly ignoring the sudden hiss from the purple bodysuit girl, and began to clean this Bitch's wounds.

"I don't know much about first aid, but this looks bad. I can at least eat the debris, and just the debris, and maybe stop her from bleeding to death. But Hookwolf, damn, that means… she's Cricket! Where is he? Is he coming back?"

Her extra eyes saw the girl slowly blink in confusion.

"No, he's over there. And over there. And a bit there. But mostly there."

Looking at where the girl was pointing, Taylor was about to shake her head in confusion when it clicked what the red smear was.

"Oh." Sending out a tendril, she confirmed it tasted of blood. "I… killed Hookwolf. Oh."

Taylor slowly extruded Bitch.

"I guess you would know me as Flask?" The slime monster shivered a little, small pieces of her body remaining behind to hold the maimed girl's wounds closed. "I'm the girl that busted up Winslow. Um, nice to meet you I guess. What… what happens now?"

Purple girl shrugged.

"No idea. Our safehouse got stepped on by Lung and our way home got blocked because Kaiser is throwing a hissy fit. You saved our asses, even if you didn't mean to sooo… maybe you wanna come along? The PRT is going to be after you. And if we survive tonight, well, I'm not sure. But not dying sounds like a great idea."

Shaking her head, Taylor gently set Bitch on the ground.

"No thank you. I need to save my friend. Canary, do you know where she is?"

Frowning, the blonde shook her head.

"Unfortunately, no. But I do happen to know where you can find out. Name's Tattletale, by the way. And you just saved the Undersiders."

Taylor tensed, her hackles raised.

'I saved a bunch of villains!?' Just before she said something… aggressive, the image of Bitch's wounds popped back into her head. 'But I suppose it was from a monster.'

The giant slime shook her head, dismissing those thoughts.

"Well, what do you want? I assume the information doesn't come for free?"

She had that much in the way of street smarts at least.

Chuckling, the young villainess waved her off.

"Nah. I'll tell you either way. But if you gave us a ride, that'd be great!"

Blinking with all of her eyes, Taylor slowly nodded, reabsorbing all the eyes that could see the large red streak back from where she'd burst out of the sewers.

"Great! You know the hospital at Main and 4th? The PRT has a command post there. Thing is, the only unit still there is the SRT. That's the PRT's SWAT team if you don't know. They've got lots and lots of guns, but no specialist equipment, according to rumor, since they're killers. All you gotta do is go there, ask nicely, or not if that's how you want to role, and you've got her!"

"Wouldn't the heroes just stop me?" That sounded _way_ too simple to work. "I mean, they've gotta know I'm out. What's to stop them from just swarming me the second I show up?"

"Lung." Skeleton biker spoke up this time. "They've already lost Challenger, according to the news, and rumor is Miss Militia is badly wounded. Dauntless and Armsmaster are holding him back, along with the adults in New Wave, but it's a close thing. Kaiser, Fenja, and Menja are also trying to fight him, even if the E88 is rampaging through the ABB's territory right now."

"How do you know that?" Taylor's paranoia spiked when the boy just rolled off reams of information that seemed _way_ too specific.

"PHO." The boy smashed his fist, and what looked like a pair of brass knuckles, into the back of Cricket's neck and the woman crumpled. "Got it open on my phone. The cape stalkers are streaming the fights live in HD. Good way to know what streets to avoid."

Snorting, Taylor shook her whole body.

"I assume you're not going to kill Cricket?"

Tattletale and Skele-Biker locked eyes for a bit, but it was a boy with a bleeding face that spoke next.

"We should off the stupid bitch. She tried to kill us. It's only fair."

The renaissance fair looking boy gave the downed woman a vicious kick to the ribs, getting a pained grunt from her.

"No." Skele-Biker firmly shook his head. "The Undersiders are _not_ killers. We do _not_ want that reputation."

"Who would know? Hookwolf is gone, there's no witnesses!"

Laughing, Tattletale interjected.

"Unless our new friend here wants to eat her, she'd still leave a body. And they were known to be fighting us. If people let their imaginations run wild…."

"Fuck." Renaissance flopped to the ground, still cradling his face.

"The big guy over here is Grue, and Regent is the one with the frills. Like I said, you saved Bitch and I'm Tattletale. So… Flask, mind giving us a ride? I _did_ give you that tip on Canary after all."

A loud grunt drew everyone's attention, Bitch coming too. With another grunt the lizard monsters started melting, healthy dogs crawling out. Staring Taylor down, the girl ran a hand across her shredded abdomen and grunted, nodding at the slime once.

"I guess." Taylor was frowning, face warping into a faux pensive look. "If I don't, you might die. And you didn't kill… anyone." The 'like I did' went unspoken. "So it's fair. And it's not like I have a better idea. Plan A was to run around the city yelling and that would just cause more harm."

She sighed, body flattening out, becoming something akin to two king sized mattresses sat side by side, and a mouth reformed at the back.

"There's room for the dogs, but please make sure they don't do their business on me. It'd be very, _very_ unpleasant."

Smiling and waving her hand, Tattletale just nodded and climbed aboard.

"Come on guys, we probably shouldn't stick around for this one. Better go get Panacea to patch us up and then disappear before the big fights cool off."

Regent gave a deep heaving sight, walking over to Taylor and flopping down onto her body.

"Guess it's not weirder than the dogs."

The canines, at a snap of Bitch's fingers, scrambled onto Taylor's mass. They seemed to find her fun to chew on, but since they were otherwise behaving the slime girl didn't say anything. Grue, for his part, just helped a scrambling dog, this one dragging at least six duffle bags with it, to get situated in the middle of their ride. After that, he picked Bitch up, despite how she growled at him, and gently sat her down.

"Thank you. For saving us."

Taylor gave a happy burble, glad she couldn't blush. There was something strong in the young man's gaze and it made her… happy she had decided to help them. And that meant she could keep an eye on them.

While Taylor wouldn't kid herself into thinking she was suddenly going to save the city, she thought that having one less group of villains running around was probably a plus. On top of that, she'd be able to keep an eye on them and, assuming Tattletale was lying to her, Taylor could simply turn them over to the troopers. Guns might not work on her, but from the way Bitch and Regent were bleeding they definitely worked on them.

'Plus they said the PRT had a _command post_ at the hospital. But, that begs the question why they wouldn't they be afraid? Maybe… it's some kind of truce?' Lung was legendary for causing trouble, just as bad as an Endbringer. And the Undersiders are just thieves.

They didn't kill. Not like her….

Fortunately, or not, even her guilt and self loathing couldn't completely distract Taylor from the question of why they would want to… make nice so quickly with her of all capes. She might be a recent trigger, but she was just as dangerous if not more so than the majority of the villains skulking around the Bay.

'Even if they're just using me for a ride to the hospital, it still doesn't totally make sense.'

She was missing something, Taylor was absolutely sure of that, but she had no idea what it was. And no matter how hard she racked her brain, it just wouldn't click. Ultimately, she just trundled forward like the world's weirdest party float. And even as she moved through debris and rubble strewn street, her mind still returned to the ever growing guilt gnawing away at her gut.

'I hope Emma's ok.'


	13. Chapter 12

**AN: Greetings people of the internet. Wyvern and the Warhawk have returned with the latest installment of Rimuru's Sister and her bizarre adventure! This time featuring even more shenanigans from the good people of Brockton Bay as they watch their city go asunder!**

**AtW: Next chapter is probably gonna be a single long scene focused on Taylor. We're ready to wrap things up and I'm thinking this arc is starting to drag on. As for any clarifications, I don't know how long Panacea's healing powers are delayed by (it's somewhat unclear based on how she uses them from time to time), the Undersiders have their reasons for what they do in the chapter, and we're going to be killing… Seven? Eight capes? Something like that. We're gonna introduce a few OCs, but I hope you guys don't mind us knocking off a couple of characters.**

**Wyvern: Not like most of them accomplished anything in canon, so we might as well put their necks to good use. On the chopping board.**

**AtW: Most will be off screen, but we might reference or show it later. That and we will have a few on screen kills too.**

**Wyvern: But that's for later. Right now, its reading time! Enjoy the show!**

* * *

**Brockton Asunder (Part 4)**

* * *

A gurney trundled by her swiftly, a wheel bumping against her shoe as another patient was hurried to surgery. The third in the last half an hour. At the end of the hallway, she could spot a long line of patients spilling out into the street, people pushing each other as they tried and failed to make room for more.

Her tired eyes surveyed the crowds.

Deep gashes.

Horrific burns.

Coughing and choking, both signs of smoke inhalation.

Bullet wounds in a few cases.

Surging forward, the crowd was growing more and more frantic as the hospital's staff was overwhelmed. In particular, the front desk attendant was trying to reason with five people as their desperate pleas and angry demand morphed into an unintelligible cacophony of shouts. The poor woman looked about ready to faint, eyes moving as her panic began to mount and hands trembling as she struggled to make herself heard over the crowd.

Amy couldn't fault her.

The past few hours had been nothing short of Hell for the staff of the Brockton Bay General Hospital. Between the gang fights, riots, and overall chaos causing more damage than they were capable of handling. Even now their police protection was dwindling, the authorities too busy trying to quell the fighting and most of their resources tied up trying to prevent even more damage.

This in turn left the fearful and wounded fleeing for shelter. A crowd of which had begun congregating inside and outside the Hospital as if it were some sort of holy sanctuary, untouched by the terror which ravaged the city at large. Something only half true.

Besides, the hospital was one of the few neutral areas when it came to the gangs. But considering the seriousness of the situation the Protectorate had still cordoned off the area, stationing a pair of heroes on the outside to prevent the fighting from reaching the hospital. This was one of the most important places outside of town hall and The Rig, though she'd learnt the latter had been breached by an escaped inmate, causing a breakout.

At least according to the two troopers chugging coffee in the break room.

Not that she managed to understand much from the furtive whispers she'd overheard. Only that the Wards had been taken out of commission and that at least three dangerous capes had managed to escape.

Skidmark, Squealer, and Flask.

The mention of the last one leaving her with… conflicting feelings.

Her sister, Vicky, often hung out with the Wards outside of and inside school. Birds of a feather flock together and what not. Plus, there was no one closer to understanding a juvenile parahuman than another juvenile parahuman. Victoria was even dating one of them, Gallant, though that never failed to make her spine crawl with distaste.

Vicky's questionable taste aside. The one Ward she seemed to get along with the best was Emma Barnes, or as she was better known, Diamond Dust.

The girl was a relatively recent trigger, with a power similar enough to Vicky's that after a few afternoons together the two had become fast friends. Honestly, Amy would have felt threatened had it not been for the fact that the two girls were TOO similar to each other. Hard headed, strong willed, perhaps a bit on the impulsive side.

They got on like a house on fire, really.

But of course, they could never be anything other than good friends. Most of all because whenever Emma visited during the past weeks, all she had to talk about was her supposed best friend and sister in all but blood. Taylor Hebert.

Better known as Flask.

And wasn't that a kick in the teeth? At least it was for Diamond Dust. Frankly, as annoyed as Amy was at the ball of slime for punting her sister through a wall, she was still oddly thankful she'd pulled the girl that Victoria was undoubtedly closest to away from her… sphere of influence. Even if her sister wasn't gay, her aura didn't discriminate. That meant she'd seen how Emma, probably because of how emotionally vulnerable she was, was growing closer and closer at an almost infuriating rate.

Something that was only speeding up since they had most of the same classes and studied together, neither being the greatest student, hung out at least three or four times a week, worked out together, trained together, and even patrolled together.

Barnes was practically spending as much time with her sister as she was! Amy… was aware that she was getting more than a little jealous. And that, that wasn't healthy. For her or Emma.

Obviously, Victoria didn't notice or really seem to care. No, she was just delighted to have another friend! Never mind how the redhead seemed to act like her, speak like her, even dress like her a little. It was nothing blatant, of course. But the little miss Barnes tried to project that same sense of confidence, of almost blind self assurance that only Glory Girl could really pull off. On top of that she'd joined Arcadia's cheer squad, at Vicky's insistence of course, and frankly only spent as much time with Missy, Vista to the public, as she did with Amy's sister.

Shame that the girl turned out to lack the will power to push past getting a real friend and stopped pining after Gallant. But around the same time Emma had glomped onto Vicky she'd taken Missy by the ear and done her level best to make her "a real girl and not just a cape". Emma's words, not hers. Of course, when she realized that Amy spent more time as Panacea than she did as a member of the Dallon household, despite New Wave outing themselves, she'd pulled Amy along for "girl's nights" and "coffee days", that was where Emma dragged them to various small coffee places around the Bay to try random stuff, and just kind of… gathered the female capes her age around herself. Shadow Stalker had even participated.

Once.

But that didn't change the fact she was monopolizing her sister's time!

'Though she isn't a bad person. She even knows my name unlike the rest of those sycophants that make up Victoria's orbiters. And they're… damn. Are Missy and Emma really the closest thing I have to a friend besides Vicky?'

"Please! Someone help my husband!"

Finally snapping out of her daze, Panacea could finally make out someone in the sea of people. Someone that _very distinctly_ needed her help.

A small woman had a rather large man held up over her shoulder, the pair stumbling forward as small scraps of burned flesh came off in thin flakes of ruined skin. Pushing through the crowd, no one really noticing her costume in the sheer press of bodies, Panacea grabbed the woman by the hand and began to pull her and her husband with her.

"There's an interview room over here. I'll take a look at him."

Ignoring the woman's panicked thanks, Amy ghosted her fingers across the man's hand.

At once a framework seemed to appear before her mind's eye. A map of every cell, every vein, every artery, muscle fiber, and nerve ending. She felt a shiver of static run up her arm, the feeling, the compulsion, to change, to create, to destroy and remake nearly overcoming her as she assessed the damage done.

The damage was extensive. Burns down to the bone, massive damage to the man's muscles, and if his vocal cords hadn't been fried from what looked like smoke inhalation he wouldn't have been able to stop screaming from the crippling pain rushing through him. Honestly, Amy was impressed at just how much will power it took for the guy to push through and keep moving. Tweaking the man's nerves, she shut down his pain receptors in the areas that were most damaged.

Instantly, the man's body relaxed, slumping forth as the tension leaked out.

She kept him from fainting with a surge of adrenaline. There could be complications if he was knocked out part way through the procedure.

"All right-" She pushed a door open, hoping against hope that an orderly was nearby. "You need to listen carefully." Amy made sure the woman was as calm as could be and focused on her words. "I can only do so much for your husband. He's very badly injured. And I'm going to save him. But he _will_ need help."

Thankfully, the man had plenty of fat she could work with. Enough that, under normal circumstances, she would have recommended a strict diet.

"Now, when you finally get in contact with a doctor, you need to give him this."

Amy pulled them both into plastic chairs, making sure the woman wasn't watching as burned flesh molted off of regrowing, slimy, wet muscles and as new bone calcified and disintegrated as her power essentially broke down half of the man's body to put it back together.

"Do you see what I'm holding up?" She'd pulled a thick notepad out with one of her hands, the other still brushing the man's knuckles. "I'm going to put some very important information on here-" A wet squelch and pop made the woman jump but Amy shook the pad. "Don't look at that, keep your eyes on me. Your husband's life depends on it."

Thirty seconds later, and after cleaning up the man's entire body, Amy helped the woman carry her now disoriented and confused, but not in mortal danger, husband to the toilet.

"Listen up. He's going to have to use the bathroom a _lot_. I just burned through about thirty pounds of fat and another one or two pounds of material for repairs to the rest of his organs." Amy scribbled down a request for fluid IVs and monitoring for the man. "He's going to spend a while in there. Just check on him every so often and if he starts screaming, it's phantom pain. I can't do brains, but he can be given something for the pain and to help him sleep. Got it?"

"Y-Yes, thank you, thank you, thank you! God bless you Panacea!"

Amy smiled and gave a short nod, not mentioning how the inside of the man's lungs had been blackened with smoke, of how she'd had to rebuild his circulatory system because, somehow, the damage from the fire and the stress had caused a heart attack. She didn't say a word about how the man had been minutes from dying and if her power's delay was more than a few seconds she might not have been able to do much.

It wouldn't serve a purpose.

Instead, she stepped back into the waiting room and began to drift through the crowd.

Silently, she moved through the minor injuries. Minor, of course, being relative. Gunshot wounds were simple enough. Four or five seconds and it was gone, the bullet being pushed out of the entry hole and clattering to the ground. Burns were harder, more time consuming, sometimes taking a minute or even two to properly address.

Few were as bad as that man had been, thankfully the hospital staff was skilled enough at triage to get them to surgery immediately, but there were a number of close calls. Each one leaving her cursing the fact she had to repurpose some of their own body and that she couldn't at least recycle the dead tissue.

In the end, the room had fallen silent, the crowd letting out occasional whimpers and cries of pain. But she simply kept walking forward. Her fingers brushing exposed skin, her powers purging infections, clearing debris, and knitting broken, burned, battered flesh and bone back together. Even when she stumbled, even when spots danced behind her eyes, even as her own muscles screamed in exhaustion Amy didn't stop.

This was her duty. This was her purpose. She was Panacea, the All Healing.

Soon the hospital staff had the group dispersing, the crowd breaking apart as the security officers and nurses pulled them into various waiting rooms.

Nodding to herself, Amy turned to head towards the surgery suite and blinked in confusion when she suddenly found herself in Assault's arms.

"I, what, why am I like this?"

Her words came out a little thick and a little slow, deepening the worried furrow in Assault's brow.

"You were just about to fall over there kiddo. I saw you start to tilt and grabbed you before you hit the ground. Think you can stand up?"

She nodded silently, a sudden migraine flashing between her eyes.

The man hummed in understanding and helped her out of the waiting room, through the doors, and onto a bench outside. Slowly blowing and thick with the stench of smoke, the cool breeze of the night still helped mitigate the buzzing between her ears, letting Amy blink away the haziness from her sight. In that state, somewhere between waking and sleeping, the light of the nearby lamppost reflected off the man's bright red costume and seemed to fill the air with a shimmering haze of light.

"Thanks…." She mumbled.

"No worries. Whatever are heroes for, right?" Assault gave her a cheeky smile.

She reclined, slowly spreading her robe out over the bench and carefully laying her back against the smooth stone seat. Giving her room to breathe and settle her nerves. Outside of the glaring lights and ammonia stench of the hospital she could finally unwind, clenched hands easing their way open as she took deep breaths.

"Good, keep it up. You were going crazy back there, kid. Just breathe with me. In and out." The man's palms lay gently on top of hers as she tried to match the slow and methodical rise and fall of the man's chest.

In.

Out.

"Easy, easy. Just focus on my voice."

Amy nodded absentmindedly. Her powers worked with even the slightest hint of contact. It made human touch something uncomfortable for her, as her powers would flash with the bare minimum contact.

Someone wearing gloves touching the top of her hands, however, was different. It felt… reassuring. To be able to touch someone and not see the deepest secrets of their bodies. Even if she could still feel the bacteria crawling over their bodies, it was good.

In.

Out.

She opened her eyes, heart finally settled and head no longer buzzing with pain. The healer offered the man a small grateful smile.

"Thank you."

He waved her off.

"Again. No problem. You looked like you needed to take a breather, and we wanted to check up on you anyway."

Amy blinked in confusion.

"We?"

"What that numbskull is trying to say. Is that I asked him to check up on you." Another costumed person, this one wearing a dark suit with blue details shaped like circuitry. Unlike her partner, she wore a modified combination visor and biker's helmet. Really, if it weren't the way the circuits glowed in the dark Amy wouldn't have seen her approach.

"Feeling the love here, Tabby-Cat"

Battery grunted.

"You called me Puppy until you learned my name, please don't call me that _now_. Hello, Panacea, my name's Tabitha. And this idiot is Ethan. I know we were introduced earlier in the evening, but one of us has been watching you the whole time. We're pretty sure you haven't taken a break in the last six hours, since all _this_-" Battery gestured at the city. "started. Are _you_ going to be ok? Because without your help the hospital is screwed. Hell, the city might be screwed."

Assault, no, Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Way to put the pressure on, Tabby. The girl almost fainted a while back."

The way he said it was teasing, but the implication was enough to make the older woman stop for a second, expression turning contrite.

"My apologies."

The girl behind the mantle of Panacea sighed in relief, stress mostly forgotten now that she got to watch two experienced heroes bicker like the married couple they were. Really, it was no secret that the two were a thing, but it was one thing to know they were married and another to see it in action.

"So, what's the situation?" Panacea broached the subject at last. The two older parahumans sharing a look as she stood up with a stubborn grimace that screamed 'I'm fine'.

Assault sighed.

"Things aren't… good, but they aren't as bad as they were before. The riots are dispersing and most of the criminals have either been apprehended or left after enough troopers arrived to help the police. Right now, the only major problems we still have are Lung and the fires. And, well, the insurgency raging in the ABB territory. That one… is bad. We lost a teammate already."

"I've heard about that. I'm sorry about Challenger."

Battery let out her breath in a hiss, face set in stone.

"She knew the risks. So don't apologize. That's on Lung." Assault spit on the ground at the name, eyes narrowed in anger.

"Still…." She continued, a hundred thoughts itching at the back of her help.

"Kid. I know you're feeling guilty right now. With powers like yours? Yeah, I would probably be feeling pretty shitty too if I heard a good woman lost her life. But right now, we gotta focus on the present. Later on we can bawl our eyes out and curse the bastard's name."

Battery elbowed him lightly, doling out a look of reproach.

"Sorry, sorry. But like I said, things are still crazy out there. But it _is_ mostly capes doing it. Those weirdos, Uber and Leet? They are still holding folks hostage at the Boardwalk. The PRT is organizing a manhunt for Skidmark and Squealer. Get them before they get too far. Last we heard, Canary's transport was derailed and she's also on the loose. And who knows what the Empire is doing."

Sighing, the red caped hero ran a gloved hand through his hair.

"At least the hospital hasn't been attacked? It's neutral ground. So I _think_ we should be safe."

"Sir, mam! Villains are approaching the front gate!"

A painfully loud smack echoed on Amy's ears as the older heroine gave her husband a rather effective love tap, his head bending a good forty five degrees as a PRT trooper in a field uniform and wearing a light ballistic vest pushed his way into the rest area.

"It's the Undersiders and Flask! We contacted the SRT but they're still ten minutes out. What do we do?"

Battery was in motion first, glaring at a sheepish Assault even as she issued orders.

"Get any of the hospital security you can find. Move all civilians inside the building and clear the windows and doorways. Assault, think you can slow them down? Talk to them, at least until reinforcements arrive?"

"Yeah." The cape nodded, replacing his visor. "I can do that. Maybe they aren't here for a fight? After all, Flask has no association with the Undersiders and they're just thieves."

"Supposition. We can't act on that. And ensuring the security of the wounded is our first priority. Besides, you were the one who jinxed us. You get to clean up your mess."

Panacea was walking behind them, pulling her hood up as she did so.

"I'll go with you. If they're here for medical help maybe I can bribe them to leave without causing trouble. Maybe even get them to surrender. It's worked before."

Battery hissed but took one look at her determined glare and nodded her ascent.

"Be careful you two. I'll be gathering the cavalry so if anything goes down you'll have backup."

"Yes mam!"

Assault gave a sharp salute and even clicked his heels together, getting a snort from Amy.

"We will, Battery, I'll make sure your boy toy makes it back."

Somehow, Assault thought that was the most hilarious thing in the world and laughed like a mad man. If nothing else, it made Panacea feel a little less afraid about confronting the girl that had wiped out the entirety of the Wards.

Just a little.

* * *

Of the many ways Danny could think of spending his evening, several, quite pleasant, diversions came to mind.

Reading a good book.

Watching whatever crappy movie happened to be airing on TV.

Even just sleeping the night away after a day of hard work.

Of course. None of them included being trapped inside a crazy reinvention of a kid's game while watching two lunatics wax poetic in front of a camera. An expensive camera, mind you, but it was the thought that counted.

His plan for the evening had been simple.

Meet with his college years' nemesis, who also happened to be his daughter's lawyer, and go through their options when the time came for defending her in court before the eyes of the world. Not the most enjoyable way to spend his time. He would rather get his teeth pulled out without anesthesia than have to deal with Elizabeth for more than one hour at a time. Unfortunately, parental duty required him to ignore his many, _many_ misgivings about the woman and try to act civil.

If this were a book, it would likely be 'The Taming of the Shrew'.

Not that he would mention it, of course. The woman would break into one of her spiels if he gave her too much time to talk.

So, against all reason and sense of self preservation, he invited her to a quaint dinner at a restaurant that was kitschy enough to rate as "amusing" and cheap enough he wouldn't have to worry about food for the rest of the month. Not that he'd pay for Elizabeth's food even if she were the kind of misandrist to let him.

It was simple math, really. Give the raging man hater something to stuff her pie hole with and she wouldn't focus on dressing him down like usual. It also probably guaranteed him a place in heaven as well. Or at least Parent of the decade.

Two birds, one stone.

Danny snorted. Taylor was a much more forgiving person than he. After the shit he pulled up he still had to catch himself from thinking too hard about how much better off his daughter would have been if he'd died instead of Annette.

Granted, that meant the woman sitting next to him would be trying to make nice with his widowed wife.

And just like that, he decided to drop the thought like a hot potato least it give him nightmares.

Then again, the stand off going on just outside the restaurant was about as likely to accomplish that. Mostly because there was a nazi emptying a pair of pistols into a giant four armed frog man that then proceeded to rip him in half. As in his legs went flying one way and his torso another.

"Oh! Look at _that_ ladies and gentlemen, Alabaster taking two for the team again! Looks like he still hasn't learned not to let Machamp close the distance, huh Leet?"

"You know it Uber! This guy got pounded to a pulp pronto, for the third time too. He really is a champ. And there he goes! Just popping back together and off again! Shit!"

The two villains ducked down and paused their running commentary as Alabaster unloaded on their position, bullets flying through the air. Machamp, as Danny had learned the monster was called, proceeded to grab the Empire cape from behind, taking both legs in hand, and pulled him apart like a wishbone, on half of the color drained villain's body flying to the distance while the other was used like a club to swat at giant blonde woman that tried to punt the frog.

"Honestly, Elizabeth, I don't know why you don't appreciate the lengths I go to for our relationship. After all, I only set this up because I know how much you like seeing men torn apart. And the big frog did kick the literal nazi in the balls so hard his power kicked in. That's what you like, or am I misremembering your college soapbox lectures?"

The woman snorted derisively.

"Shut up. I'm watching the show."

Her voice was at a rough growl. Something likely caused by the half hour she spent screaming at the top of her lungs at the two video game enthusiasts. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately for him, the pokemall the two of them had been locked into together seemed to be soundproof.

Not on the inside of course. Which meant he had to be the only one who actually heard her.

But on the other hand, he got to watch two giant women wrestle with an even bigger dragon snake thingy. It's fanged mouth set in a permanent scowl as its hard light blue scales thrashed about, dragging the valkyrie-looking women across the floor and down the street.

If he didn't consider himself a married man, he'd have even taken a moment to appreciate it when said giant snake thingy bit into one of the nazi giant's chest plates and tore it off. Giving him two pretty good reasons Kaiser had recruited them.

'Playboy models indeed.' He clamped down on the urge to whistle.

Assuming he wasn't a married man, of course. As it was, he was treated to a lecture about how men only objectified women, saw them as sex objects, and thought with their lower heads. Not that Elizabeth would have been polite enough to actually use a euphemism, of course.

'I wonder if she has daddy issues or is just plain crazy?'

"Would you look at that, Uber. Even while pulling off a flawless Double Team, the Nordic Giantesses just aren't up to the same level as my brilliant inventions, the Holomons! 'Course we're gonna have to censor that last bit. Gratuitous violence and no nudity because a nipple might make little Timmy a satanist. Brought to you by Hetap!"

The two capes holding them hostage were for sure weird. Dressed with black pants and white shirts with the letter R painted bright red on it, the scrawnier of the two, Leet or something, reached for his pocket, pulling out what looked like a smaller version of the spheres he'd used to trap him and the other people at the restaurant.

"But as our faithful watchers know. A two on one battle is illegal! So let's try and even the odds, shall we?"

The man… struck an awful pose. As if he were getting ready to make the opening pitch of a baseball game. And then, after taking an almost stupidly exaggerated windup, the man tossed a small sphere towards the melee. The red and white ball flying in a perfect arc as it fell towards the twins.

"Tauros, I choose you!"

It enlarged, becoming palm sized as it released a flash of bright light from all sides, the energy forming a shapeless mass of white before settling into what looked like a giant bull the size of a van with three tails and a large mane of dark hair.

It landed on the ground with a thunderous boom, its hooves cracking the asphalt.

"Now, use Take Down!"

And just like that, the massive bull charged off into the melee. Tackling one of the giant women off the serpent and across the street and leaving her twin to the serpent by herself and Alabaster to the Machamp. Which by now had ripped him in half for what felt like the twelfth time.

"Someone get this thing off me!" The pasty white cape shrieked in pain, even as his body went flying.

Fenja and Menja shared a look, gritting their teeth and taking ahold of the giant blue serpent. Menja, the one that had her chest exposed, Danny thought, dropped any pretense of modesty and wrapped her arms around the snake's… vague neck area. Arching her hips, she began cranking her choke hold even as Fenja, the one that had her armored skirt mostly torn off, grabbed the thing by the tail began to drag the thrashing, twisting, shaking monster towards a mac truck.

Alabaster's head and chest went flying again, his arms still reflexively firing his pistols as they tumbled away.

Danny… was very much enjoying the show. Of course, that's when a swarm of ghostly, spear wielding figures charged into the area.

"Well my purple haired compatriot, it looks like we're really in it this time!"

"Not so fast my blue haired comrade, we do have a Trump card for just this situation!"

"Don't tell me it's that blue monstrosity oh kind, wise, skilled, and handsome friend who is totally not cosplaying a girl he used to touch himself to?"

"No, my bright, quick thinking, intelligent ally, it's the monster that still makes you piss yourself when you get hit with a jumpscare!"

Both of the idiots clasped hands and, awkwardly, threw a ball together.

"Blast off at the speed of light, _Gengar!_"

A white blob with two large arms manifested in mid air, just hovering there for a minute. And then it _screeched_. Unleashing a _furious swipe_, it carved through a ghost creation before disappearing, seemingly teleporting on top of Crusader, who had lead the charge of another dozen of his clones and what looked like a small army of Empire thugs, and vomited _toxic sludge_ on top of him. _Screeching_ again, the thing formed massive, two or three foot long purple claws, flickering with a dark power, and simply tore into the group of men.

"Holy shit man. What the fuck. I mean, holy _shit_ Leet!"

The Tinker, wearing a pink wig, stuttered before taking a deep breath.

"I, uh, just want to tell our lovely viewers-" A group of grown men went flying, screaming in sheer terror and blindly shooting at the white ghost thing. "That it should be… non lethal."

"Let's, uh, let's just focus on the fight with the half naked blondes. Fucking Hell!"

Chuckling, Danny reclined on his folded up jacket, resting on his hands as he watched the bent over nazi woman show off the… very sheer lingerie she'd been wearing under her costume. Sure, she was trying to shove a blue snake dragon thing into the back of cargo container, and getting a _lot_ of trouble for her efforts, but it was still a nice show.

"Chauvinist pig."

Elizabeth's insult made him smile.

"Omnisexual lesbian with no standards."

The lawyer made an offended choking sound even as _another_ smattering of bullets pinged off their ball.

"Don't give me that look." Danny began. "I saw you ogling the other one too." He waved his hand at her, the one with the wedding ring. "Of course I could control my eyes long enough to actually _get_ the girl. I do suppose this counts as confirmation that Kaiser does keep them around for their looks though. Wonder how they're gonna feel about all this."

Snorting, the feminazi, important distinction, tossed her hair.

"Superior race, my ass. Those are obviously implants. So much for the ubermensch."

"So you were ogling the Nazi!"

"Like you weren't too. Just look at that shameful display. It's like she's begging for a photoshoot. I mean, how pathetic do you have to be to match underwear with your _twin_ just to please a _man_. Those two need a real woman's touch."

Danny felt his mouth open and close. Not quite wanting to delve into whatever thoughts his hated nemesis was cooking up in her vile brain. Probably something about trying to send him to Singapore in a container again. Or the half naked Nazi women fighting the giant snake.

He blinked. Well that sounded weirder than he thought it would.

Leet suddenly swore loudly, turning to his friend.

"Gyarados is going critical man. I've gotta shut Mr. Nibbles off or we'll fry the projector."

"Crap." Uber ran his hand across his face. "Ok, I've got a plan. Champers, send that shit fuck flying! Up and through the building!"

Responding to "Champers", the four armed frog man grabbed Alabaster by the ankles, the man once more wildly discharging his pistols in a vain attempt to hit the two rogues, and began to spin. And spin. And spin. With a _very_ loud "Kero~", Danny wasn't sure how but he _knew_ there was a tilde there, the frog sent Alabaster through the roof.

He didn't come down.

"Taurus!" Leet stepped forward. "Charge your _hyper beam_, Gengar, finish off the cannon fodder!"

Uber stepped forward, throwing his hand forward, palm first, while he brought his other hand back into a fist.

"Machamp, hit her with a _low kick_ and then give her one Hell of a _seismic upper cut_!"

The bull,which had previously been trying to trample his foe or gore her with his spear like horns, now somehow leapt backwards, despite being in the middle of another charge, and began to gather energy in its mouth.

Neither one of the twins wanted to permit this, of course, and so both began to move. Either to attack or dodge, Danny couldn't say. And not just because both of their costumes had pretty much been ruined at this point. Honest! It was the dust cloud.

Irrespective of _why_ he couldn't say, it didn't matter to the hard light monsters. The frog man lashed out with a brutal low kick, even he could hear the woman's snapping ankle, and then, as Fenja or Menja, he didn't know which, began to fall it jumped upwards and punched her with all four arms at once.

Even he winced at the spurt of blood and the shattering of her nose when that happened.

"Damnit, Leet, I thought you said they shouldn't cause this much damage!"

"I don't know man, they're acting up. Nothing's wrong on the control screen, it's just like they _want_ to fight. I… let's just end this, now!"

Of course, the giant that was still standing took grave exception to this attack on her sister. Recovering the spear she'd lost much, _much _earlier in the fight, she lashed out at the bloody Machamp. Being a hard light construct, this simply caused it to violently flicker and part around the weapon instead of being splattered across the far wall.

More importantly, the creature didn't reform.

Instead, Leet swore and messed around with a few more switches.

"Well guys, looks like that's two pokemon fainted!" Uber stepped forward once more. "But now, Taurus, use your hyper beam!"

A clear bolt of light, bright enough Danny had to close his eyes, struck the still standing giant in the chest. This, instead of punching a hole through her, simply knocked her backwards. Straight into what _had_ been a free standing support pillar. Slumping to the ground, her bra finally gave up the ghost, on a live stream no less.

The two independent capes would be sure to make a mincing out of it.

Danny, on the other hand, would have been far more sympathetic to what would have been horrific public humiliation if the Empire hadn't attacked some of his friends and coworkers for the colour of their skin.

As it was, he just smiled and nodded.

"You know, I was going to enjoy a nice dinner, hopefully without you saying much, but a show is good too. And it's not billable hours."

"Please, as if your blue collar earnings could pay for that."

Danny rolled his eyes.

"Classist or feminist. Try and pick a schtick that's not wife stealer and keep to it."

"Oh, I didn't steal anyone's wife. You're such a narrow minded, patriarchal college drop out that you wouldn't even recognize women's liberation if it hung your elitist ass from a lamp post." The sound of a nail file got Danny to turn his head, blinking in confusion as Elizabeth casually took care of her nails.

"What?" She shrugged. "I've got fifteen minutes and I like having good personal hygiene."

"All I'm saying-" Danny chuckled. "Is that I'm the one that got the loving wife, a job that lets me _help_ people, and a freaking amazing kid. I think I got the better deal."

Elizabeth harrumphed, but blessedly said nothing else.

"Okay…" The larger of the streamers started, words not quite coming out at the pleasant surprise. "To all our lovely viewers, we'll be censoring that in post. And hopefully the Empire doesn't lynch us for this later. This is Uber-"

"And this is Leet!"

""Blasting off again!""

The small cameras floating by their side shut down with a click, the duo sharing a hearty high five.

"Ok man, that was a good show. I think Gengar got the rest of those guys, the twins are down, and I think we sent Alabaster into another state. Uh, shoot, they're running hot. Gonna need to give these guys some major TLC when we get back to base."

Uber chuckled.

"Sounds great man. Just look at these numbers! They are _amazing_. Like, maybe we should try this hero stuff more often. So, you about ready to move?"

Leet was a Tinker and Uber was a Thinker. They were a pair of mild villains and mostly rogues. Neither of them were actually experienced fighters, not really, despite Uber being able to give himself the mental abilities of one. Tonight had been incredibly hectic for them. It was mostly understandable that they forget one of their enemies.

And not notice a sneak attack.

Crusader roared, leaping up from under a table and driving his spear into the side of Leet's gut. Twisting the blade, he yanked it out and turned to charge Uber. Before he did so, the man screamed in pure, unadulterated fury and _launched_ himself at the armored cape.

Apparently, it wasn't very good armor.

The ten foot long spear, red with Leet's blood, was swiftly broken, Uber driving the head of the spear into the shoulder joint of Crusader's cuirass. Following this, he delivered a swift set of palm strikes to the man's chest, tipping him backwards even as the Nazi screamed and tried to use the haft of his spear to drive the enraged man back. This backfired, however, as Uber used the leverage and Crusader's lack of balance to pull him forward, trip the man, and stomp him in the middle of the back.

This blow didn't do much itself, but the spear point ground into and crunched Crusader's shoulder. With his foe still on the ground, Uber continued his assault.

First he brought his foot up and around in a perfect low kick, the tip of her boot colliding with the side of Crusader's head. As the Nazi's head went, so too did his body come crashing down in the opposited direction. Uber scooped up the spear haft and brought it down like a bat. With a picture perfect swing, he slammed it into the downed Nazi again and again and again, brutalizing the man even as the rogue screamed in rage.

"Hands up and stop moving!"

Danny almost jumped when a group of cops charged in, guns drawn and aiming at Uber. Fair enough, he supposed, considering that Crusader's ghosts were gone and the man himself wasn't moving. It was still a struggle to care about a man that was as vicious as one of the Nazis. Fortunately, for his sense of morality if not his back, translucent red and white ball holding him up disappeared; preventing him from musing if would be tyrants really did have it coming or not.

He didn't scream.

"Oof!"

The wind _was_ knocked out of him. Thankfully, his jacket cushioned his head slightly. Awkwardly climbing to his feet, Danny watched as armed and uniformed police officers swarmed through the mall, at least a dozen on each of the downed capes, and a trio of paramedics already hovering over Leet and loading him onto a stretcher. Blinking the flashing lights that were then pouring through dozens of broken windows, he just kind of… stood there and watched.

"Danny… Danny, come on. We should go."

It all felt surreal.

Video game monsters fighting Nazis.

Uber and Leet of all people being heroic for once.

Elizabeth of all people speaking an entire sentence without insulting him, his financial situation, or his gender.

Truly, this was turning out to be a night to remember.

"I just hope Taylor is alright." It was a gut instinct, really. He hadn't had the chance to try and call the PRT to ask if his daughter was safe. The darned spheres blocked cell phone signals so he'd been in the dark for hours now. And with how crazy things were getting, he needed to be sure she was okay.

His old nemesis scoffed.

"She is a smart girl. It's not like she would be bone headed enough to try and escape the Protectorate. Annette taught her better than that."

"Right." He nodded. "She's probably in her cell and doesn't know anything. Let's get out of here before the cops question us for six hours."

Taylor was safe. Hell, she was probably the safest person in the city right now.

* * *

"So, why are you guys not worried about being arrested again?"

Taylor rolled over another crater, this one shaped like a giant foot, as she steadily rolled towards the hospital. Her passengers, sans Bitch who had passed out, mostly spent their time chatting or barking. Not always depending on their species, oddly enough.

"I mean, you even knew they had a command post there. And I suppose that makes sense, BB General is important, but you spoke like you _knew_."

"I'd say I'm a mindreader." Tattletale chuckled. "But you're a Trump and we're all touching you. So let's just say that I'm a Thinker and powers are bullshit. Ok?"

"Ok. I can buy that." Taylor even gave a full body nod. "But you didn't say why you're not worried about being arrested."

"Turn right up here. And that one's simple. See that giant dragon about half way across the city?"

"Lung? You really think that, that is enough to get you out of prison for free?"

She was a bit incredulous, but Taylor did make the right turn, the Hospital's sign, and a line of sandbags, demarcating their destination.

"No, not entirely." Grue's voice surprised her, the boy having been largely silent and letting Regent or TT entertain Taylor. "But what he's doing, how the Empire has responded, and the fact that the city is shut down. I mean, can you hear anything but gunshots in the distance?"

"And even those are starting to fade out too." The purple spandex wearing girl leaned over the side of Taylor's body to look her in one of her many eyes. "It's simple. The whole place is fucked. The Rig is fucked. Their headquarters are gonna have people _way_ scarier than us on ice, and that assumes anyone even wants to fight. After all, the hospital is kind of a neutral area. Though… that is an angry looking Assault standing at the front gate."

This was not how Taylor thought her night was going to turn out.

Sure. It hadn't been her intention to force her way out of prison to save another person from being sent to prison. But that was just the reason she was out here in the first place. She'd landed right on top of a nazi, threatened and then decided to help a hapless bunch of injured villains.

"Hello!" So she was going to ride this wave of bullshit all the way to the end. "I have wounded! And they say this is a neutral ground, so, um, we come in peace?"

"You have an interesting way of showing it. Shoulding you be back at the Rig?" The man in the red suit remarked.

Taylor felt a wave of unease ripple through her. Well, unease and embarrassment at being called out like a child who'd gotten seen taking from the cookie jar. The fact it was a superhero of all people giving her what amounted to a scolding felt way too surreal. Like a fever dream.

"No… haven't you heard?" She waffled a bit. "Well, Canary was going to be caged. It's wrong. And aren't heroes supposed to stop stuff like that?"

There was enough indignation and stubborn frustration that everyone around her started getting… worried.

"Uh, Taylor, I hate to be like this, but can we get off before you start fighting?"

Harrumphing, Taylor, gently, set the villains, and their mutts, on the ground. Except for Bitch, whom she kept partially covered and secured within her main body.

"Bitch's hurt. Bad. Get a few doctors down here to take her and I'll go. Regent got slashed across the face too.

"I'll take it from here."

A hooded figure calmly walked towards them, one that had been previously obscured by Assault and the bad lighting. Now? It was possible to see the red cross emblazoned over the form of Panacea, followed by the neon blue circuit accented form of Battery. The two heroines stood a few feet further away from them. Which in hindsight shouldn't be that much of a surprise, considering they were at Brockton Bay's biggest and main source of health care.

So of course she would be here. Especially during an emergency.

"The one of you that's injured more severely, come over here first. I take it that's the girl you're carrying?" At Taylor's nod, Panacea shrugged and sighed. "Can you extend her hand outside of your body? Let's see if your Trump rating carries through to what you're touching."

Ignoring the protests of the heroes, and the sudden arrival of about ten armed PRT troopers, the healer marched right up to Taylor, who had allowed Bitch's hand to slip out, and lightly touched the wounded girl's hand.

"Ok, I can see some of her body… but there's these big black patches. I'm not getting full picture here. Can you let a bit more of her out?"

Taylor did just that, feeding an unconsious's Bitch's body, which she had been holding together to prevent exsanguination, out of her main mass. The girl's dogs letting out pitiful whines and a small whimper when a few drops of blood splattered on the ground.

"All right, I can work with this. Just keep letting out a bit more at a time and I can keep working with her. But, Jesus, did someone try to crucify her?"

"Hookwolf." Grue's deep voice prevented Taylor from trying to stutter out an answer. "He won't be a problem. For anyone."

The heroes tensed, his implication being obvious. Taylor simply closed her eyes and thanked the young man for taking credit for something she was trying really, _really_ hard not to think about.

She already had beaten up the Wards twice. Squashing another human being wasn't something she wanted on her resume.

Even if they were a murderous Nazi.

"Ok, hold up, before we start fighting, let's just calm down." Assault raised his hands and stepped back a bit. "Hookwolf was a shit fuck and had a cage order on him, he was trying to murder a young girl-"

"He disemboweled her too, good job cleaning these by the way."

Even the troopers winced at Panacea's announcement and Assault continued, truly sounding eager to avoid violence.

"Shit. So the guy was trying to rip her open too. He had it coming, self defense plane and simple. Or defense of others or whatever. So we're gonna submit a report and you guys are gonna tell us where you left him, ok?"

"He's a red smear. But his bitch should still be alive." Regent, still holding his half red face, gave a bitter chuckle. "As for why there's no body, well, giant, angry lizard dogs get hungry. If Grue hadn't stopped me, I'd have made them eat Cricket too. Be _thankful_."

"Ignore him, the pain is making him pissy." Tattletale walked over to her teammate, helping him up from the curb he'd sat down on. "Bitch is almost ready to go, right?"

Panacea gave another nod.

"Yeah. And I didn't even give her early onset diabetes. Let me see your friend, then you leave. Got me?"

"Got yah."

Again, Grue spoke up, maneuvering closer to the healer and the slime. It said a great deal that he simply ignored the group of adults, particularly the ones levelling loaded weapons at him.

"Will she wake up?"

Now that he was closer, and he wasn't projecting his voice, Taylor realized there was serious concern in his tone.

"Yeah." Panacea nodded. "I don't do brains, but it's just mild blood loss at this point. Since I assume you guys aren't going to stay, you should get her to eat plenty of fruit, plenty of natural sugars that is, and some salads. Throw in a steak or two, too. She should be fine."

"Thank you." The young man's voice was soft. "Regent, you're up." Throwing Bitch's arm over his shoulder, Grue began to carry her towards her dogs and was soon joined by his other comrades; Regent only needing a few seconds and a pat on the cheek to get moving.

"Flask." Taylor formed a few eyes to look at the leader of the Undersiders. "If you want to come with us, you can. We might even be able to help."

Taylor considered it. Really hard.

She'd known them only for an hour at most, and barely that, but they seemed to be interesting if quirky people who she would love to get to know better. Even Regent, if only because she was never the target of his jokes.

But….

"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Knowing my luck, I'll end up leading us right to Lung, and I think Bitch has had enough near death experiences for the night."

She wasn't the only one hurt either. All Undersiders looked worse for wear, if not tired out from whatever ordeal they went through. Taylor was fine with putting herself at risk, she was basically indestructible, but they were squishy, and right now she couldn't afford bringing them along.

Not when she was about to go cause even more trouble.

'I've… already killed at least one man tonight. I'm probably responsible for even more with the Ward's out of action.' Taylor's whole body wobbled in a sudden bout of depression. 'But I just need to press ahead. If I save Paige maybe all of this will be worth something.'

The group seemed mollified, though Tattletale and Grue gave her doubtful looks before they moved away from the hospital atop Bitch's mutant hounds. She understood why. Better to leave now and not risk the heroes changing their minds about bringing them in. Something Taylor didn't need to worry about.

Not unless Militia or Armsmaster were lurking around.

She eyed the heroes warily. Her form warping and rippling into a humanoid form. Granted, all the extra mass she collected on the way out of the rig ended up making her look gigantic by comparison. And eight feet tall slime monster with eyes all over its body and tentacles coming from its back.

By far not her best look, but it would do.

"What happens now?"

The heroes seemed to be as stumped about it as she was. It wasn't like they could stop her from just leaving. But they couldn't just let her leave unrestricted. Of the three, Panacea seemed the less conflicted. Simply staring at Taylor's new form with newfound interest. The other two, however, seemed to be having a silent conversation of their own.

Looks were exchanged.

Whispered words she could not make out.

The duo seemed uncertain, yet she knew that if she made the first move they would be forced to make a decision rather than remain at this mexican standoff.

"That's true enough. But, of course, you want to be a hero. Right, Miss Hebert?"

Startled, Taylor and the heroes turned to face a group of troopers arriving at the gate, having cautiously approached them from inside the hospital. They were led by a suspiciously unarmed black man, someone who looked strangely at ease despite being so close to an escaped prisoner. Unlike his fellows, who seemed more than eager to cling to their guns.

Considering the circumstances of the Bay, she couldn't hold it against them.

The leader stepped forward, keeping his eyes on her all the while. He looked, haggard? No that wasn't the right word. His clothes looked a bit on the crispy side, and his face was smeared with ashes and dirt.

As if he had just gotten off the fighting.

"I'm Commander Calvert of the PRT's Special Response Team." The uniformed man fell into an easy, instinctual parade rest. "And I'd like to speak with you, Flask."


	14. Chapter 13

**AN: Well howdy there! Been a little while hasn't it? Well, here we are! Wyvern and the Warhawk are back to present you with the newest instalment of everyone's favorite slime girl adventure!**

**AtW: I apologize, this one is also my fault. Real life has gotten… rough for me. To the point I struggle to write anything sometimes. Thank Wyvern for pushing us through.**

**Wyvern: I do what I can, and love doing it!**

**AtW: Hopefully, this is entertaining enough to make up for it. And that it answers a few more questions.**

**Wyvern: Now, onto the show!**

* * *

**Brockton Asunder (Part 5)**

* * *

Once more the wind cracked and whipped through the street. Sea salt and ash were an odd taste on Taylor's skin, especially when she was surrounded on both sides. Slowly extending and contracting out of the potential crossfire she kept an eye on as many things as possible. The heroes, who were rather confused at the man's appearance, the hospital security who had relaxed at the sight of the uniforms and tensed at the drawn weapons, the troopers who, even now, spread out in an ever wider semi circle.

And now that she was really _looking_ at them… they really didn't look all that hot themselves.

The black man, Calvert, that was their leader wasn't carrying a gun and, Taylor noticed, that was because he probably wasn't wearing his own gear anymore. Underneath his pristine, and seemingly empty, tactical vest, something she was familiar with, having eaten a couple hundred all too recently, was a tattered, burned, muddy, blood spattered uniform.

His troops were about the same.

"Of course, Ms. Hebert, Assault, Battery, before I discuss anything else, can I bring my wounded in for treatment?"

"Wounded?"

Battery's statement wasn't mere repetition so, with a nod, Thomas elaborated.

"A couple dozen civilians and about half of my men. Most are walking wounded. Some are far more serious."

Taylor burbled and stopped rolling backwards.

"I'm not going to stop you and I don't want to start any fights. I just, please, I just want to help my friend. The Cage… is a death sentence."

Realizing that she'd formed mouths on every facing of her body, Taylor recalled some of her excess organs. The extra eyes, covering every possible approach, remained. Now she looked like a slightly less threatening mass of humanoid slime. Though some might argue that it made her even more eerie.

"Thank you, Ms. Hebert."

Calvert inclined his head.

Battery sighed, Assault giving her a confused look, before shrugging.

"Yeah. If Flask is promising not to do anything, let's get them inside."

At this, the battleworn commander waved his hand and another dozen shadows began to climb out of piles of debris, hidden positions, or come around corners. With these men, who Taylor immediately noticed were all hurt in some, many quite serious, ways. A broken arm here, burns across the face there, one man had seemingly bled through the side of his uniform, even if he was still on his feet and alert.

Every. Single. One.

More than that, though, their eyes were _hard_. They were alert, scanning their surroundings, weapons lowered but ready. And she could understand why when the line of people turned the corner.

Surprisingly, they were lead by a guy that was rather clearly a nazi. The shaved head and swastikas being something of a dead giveaway. Even more surprisingly was the asian guy he had slung over his shoulders in a fireman carry. Behind this rather hulking mass of a man came women and children, most walking some being carried, and then a line of men carrying people on makeshift stretchers, and then another group of grown men, these the healthiest and least wounded, carrying what looked like food and water and… weapons.

Fire axes, crow bars, baseball bats… things someone in a desperate, terrible situation might grab to defend themselves.

All in all there had to be sixty or seventy people, most scared and hurt, awkwardly making their way across the lines of men to reach the hospital. It wasn't lost on Taylor that Calvert's men had formed a crescent moon with her at the focal point of their formation. A thin human wall between her and the people they were sworn to protect.

Guilt, the knowledge she'd killed and damned others to death, twisted in her gut… but then the thought of Paige, alone, trapped in the Cage with people like Teacher, like Acidbath, like the other, more horrific people that'd been consigned to Hell on Earth.

Seeing a kid with a face, black and red from what looked like an explosion of some kind, whimpering into his mother's shoulder as they glanced at her with fear… that would stay with her thought.

"Once Paige is safe… I'm gonna see dad. And then turn myself back in." No one heard her and that was what Taylor wanted.

Eventually, the civilians filed into the hospital and Calvert stepped forward, clearly to the displeasure of his men, and waved them on.

"Ms. Hebert, Assault, Battery, I do think we have something to discuss." Looking over his shoulder, he nodded at his men. "Sweep the hospital, top to bottom, liaise with the local security, and then fall out. Get some food, if Panacea has the energy get her to look you over, then get some rest." The gun line hesitated. Calvert's eyes tightened.

"Aye, sir."

One of the men, probably his second in command, gave a deep sigh.

"You heard the boss! Get moving people! Henderson, get your ass to the doc, the rest of you, sort your shit and sweep the nice target rich environment. No telling what the damn junkies might be planning so we gotta make sure this beauty aint got no holes for 'em to fuck!"

The PRT's Special Response Team did as they were told, even if there were a few grumbles.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Taylor waited until Calvert gave her a nod before she fully approached him.

It was more sad than funny that the heroes took longer to reach her than she did to reach the nice, intimidating man who commanded a small army of troopers willing to fight something they couldn't do more than tickle just to give him another second or two of life.

"I'm glad to see you all decided to have this discussion. Now, as this is classified information I'm about to discuss, is there anywhere we can privately speak?"

Sharing a look, Assault and Battery had a silent conversation until the electric blue heroine gave a sigh.

"There's a secure basement under the parking deck. It's not inside the hospital proper and it's completely empty. We can speak there."

So!

Two heroes, a police officer, and a ball of slime walk into a bar!

Or well… a hospital basement.

That sounded like the weirdest set up for a joke in the history of bad humor. But then again, Taylor's life had become a bit of a bad joke the last couple weeks. Sometimes it just seemed like the universe was out to get her for whatever reason it had.

She wisely decided not to dwell on every bad decision she's made since busting out of her locker. She'd done that enough the past hour as it stood.

Instead, she decided to get the ball rolling and break the tense, awkward silence which had been building up. Which again, was kinda her fault too. In hindsight, turning up with a group of villains hadn't done much to keep the hero duo calm, not when they had been part of the reason why the city was in chaos.

"All right Thomas, what do you want?"

Assault broke the silence first, sitting on the hood of an empty car as far away from Taylor, and as close to his wife and the Commander, as he could be.

Shrugging, he simply flopped onto the ground and leaned against the wall. Taking a moment, he peeled his arm out of the burned part of his jumpsuit and cleared a bit of debris from the blistered skin underneath.

"Lung took out my convoy. None of my men died, we were in MRAPs at that point, but the national guard humvees didn't do so well."

Battery hissed.

"How many died."

Prodding a few particularly ugly blisters, Calvert took his time to respond.

"Most of them." He shrugged. "The rest tried to engage Lung with rockets. I'm not sure what happened to them after that."

Grunting, Assault repeated his earlier question.

"So why are we _here_, instead of _out there_. What if Lung comes this way!"

Calvert's tone was dry enough to sting even Taylor.

"While I admire your willingness to throw yourself at the man, the Protectorate does have a plan. Dauntless, Miss Militia, and Armsmaster have been handling him. He's on a rampage, so to speak, and they've been wounding him enough to keep his attention. Right now, they've almost got him out of the North Western area of the city. Dragon is also enroute with multiple suits. Officially, he has a kill order. More practically, we're trying to limit the collateral."

Taylor, shifting a bit, spoke before she really thought about it.

"Can't he fly though?"

Assault, coming a bit closer, nodded.

"Yeah. He gets those big ass wings. How are they keeping him on the ground?"

Calvert shrugged.

"I assume with heavy weapons." His mouth… roughly approximated a gaunt, wan smile. "Like I said, he has a kill order. They aren't pulling their punches. And neither are we."

Pacing, Assault gave a jerky nod.

"Ok then." Battery gently rubbed her husband's shoulder, bringing him up short. "So what is it you wanted to discuss with us? We really do need to get back to the hospital."

"Not you two, per se, but Ms. Hebert. Quite simply, I wish to purchase her assistance."

Everyone froze.

"What?"

This time Battery was asking a question. Taylor still kept her mouth shut, feeling both awkward and confused, hoping Calvert would answer without prevaricating this time.

"As I mentioned earlier, my convoy was hit by Lung. Before then, we were en route to an ABB safehouse. Specifically because of a number of kidnappings they had conducted near the outbreak of the violence."

"What kidnapping needs an armored column to deal with it?"

Assault's question got a chuckle from the black man still brushing off the large, weeping blisters on his arm.

"The kind involving the Mayor's niece being a precog. Thinker 4 to Thinker 8. Her lowest provisional ratings, compiled by Dragon based on information we could acquire without contacting her, bely how unimaginably powerful she is. Thinker 8 is more likely than not, considering she can give percentage based chances on any question asked. While that's supposition, the Tinker was… very thorough in her reasoning. She's a VIP. And the ABB have her."

The slime girl felt her body crawl at the implications.

"Still." Battery interrupted. "Why is it necessary to hire a… known rogue Shouldn't we be attempting to resolve the issue ourselves?"

Calvert looked unphased.

"Normally the Protectorate would have dispatched any nearby capes to deal with the issue. However, with this many fires to put out, and the Rig on lockdown, our hands are tied. As a last resort, we would have requested assistance from the Wards… however, they are indisposed."

"Sorry." Taylor couldn't look any of them in the eyes with any of hers. "I tried to be… I panicked. I'm sorry."

She'd been saying that a lot lately. Yet continued making bad decisions.

If only she'd…

Calvert laughed, a raspy chuckle akin to a rusty door.

"Hardly. They'd probably still be on the Rig or at the headquarters downtown. The odds of them being killed or crippled in this… chaos is simply too high. Which is precisely why I want _you_, Ms. Hebert."

He pulled his uniform back into place.

"To be blunt, in exchange for giving you the location of Paige Mcabee I want you to recover Dinah Alcott, along with the other hostages, and deliver them to my custody so that I may ensure their safety, and neutralize any ABB holdouts still attacking the emergency service workers. In short, crush them. Do not _kill_ anyone, but do what needs to be done."

Taylor felt her body stiffen, proverbial breath knocked out of her non-existent lung.

Paige?

He knew where Paige was?!

"This is absurd!" Battery was almost spitting. "Have you lost your mind Commander! She's a teenager, an _escaped prisoner_, and has no training! And you want to send her after another literal in the heart of the ABB's remaining territory!?"

"Love, to be fair, she _did_ take out all the Wards at once. And she's bullet proof." Visor obscuring his eyes, Taylor could still how tense Assault was. And also how he was looking at her with pity. "The girl's gone through a lot of crap, if anyone can punch that deep in contested territory…."

The black man shrugged.

"Are you going to do it? Leave your post here at the hospital?"

"Well, I, why not ask for another hero or, Hell, the _police_ to take care of this."

Ignoring Assault trying to calm his wife, the wounded commander held up his good hand.

"One-" He raised a finger. "There are no other heroes. Glory Girl is out of contact, the BBB is either engaging the Merchants or Lung, Velocity is attached to the fire department and is the only thing holding the ABB from attacking the rescue workers or the Endbringer shelters." Pausing, he quirked his head. "How much of the city was ordered to evacuate by the way? We were hit when the call went out over the radio."

Before Battery could snap again, Assault jumped in.

"They sent it out by text, radio message, the emergency alert system on the TV, and the police opened up the shelters city wide. Evacuation was offered for everyone, but mandatory for anyone north of Thirteenth Street."

"Two-" Clavert raised another finger. "The police are currently herding what, forty, fifty thousand civilians right now? And that's just those left in Lung's path. Add to that I know the local jails were filled to overflow and even the PRT cells had been topped up, that means all those people have to be monitored and controlled. Quite simply, the civil authorities can't help."

"Then we'll go! Assault and I can deal with this. At least we'd know what we're doing, instead of sending a child into a meat grinder. And both he and I can move fast. The damage to the city won't slow us down."

"Three. What about the Empire?"

"What about them? They haven't… done… anything. Crap."

Nodding at Assault, Calvert agreed with him.

"Leet is being brought to this hospital, while Uber has been taken into custody. From what I recall, at least two of the Empire capes need surgery. Possibly three. They'll be brought here and then the Nazis will wants to break them out. All they need to do is send Othalla and one or two more, never mind Kaiser himself coming for his toys, and they'd pin you down. Their thugs storm the hospital, they'd over run the security, and the only people who could stand up to them would be my team. If Cricket was recovered and healed, then we'd be slaughtered."

Giving another shrug, the commander silently ended the conversation. It went unspoken that the Nazis would be _seething_ with rage and his point had been well made.

Uber and Leet had done quite a number on them. Physically, emotionally , perhaps even morally. One did not just get beaten by children's toys and walk out with their heads held high.

"You know where she is?"

Taylor's voice wasn't totally stable and she hadn't _really_ been following the argument. She was just a bit… distracted. Her form seemed to shift and warp in impatience, humanoid features barely keeping themselves together.

Frankly, she was having a meltdown.

"I do."

His words were calm and low. Clear, of course, she was meant to hear, but it was soothing.

"All you have to do is save a scared little girl and I'll tell you how to find her. Deal?"

A jerky nod was her answer.

"Good." Calvert climbed to his feet. "Follow me then, I'll tell you how to get there. Not unless you want to stay here and fight more Nazis while those two go to save her?"

If it was possible to intimidate the man in front of her, Taylor didn't know. Because she'd just glared at him with more than a dozen eyes and Calvert hadn't flinched. Instead, he gave a small chuckle, and opened the door for her.

"That's the spirit. Let's get moving!"

"Wait!" Battery, despite Assault once more trying to hold her back, walked up to Taylor. "Hey, Flask. I… I just wanted you to know, I wasn't trying to insult or demean you. It's just, you're a kid. You should be at home, putting off your school work, and just…. Be careful, ok?"

Someone, especially an adult, expressing concern for her was new. But, Taylor had to admit, it wasn't as bad of a feeling as she thought it might be.

"I'll bring her and her family here. Safe and sound. Then I'm going to save my friend. It's what a hero is supposed to do. Right?"

The blue armored woman's lips twitched into a smile.

"Right. Don't blame me if there's a hundred troopers with foam sprayers and tasers waiting on you when you get back."

Warbling, the mass of pink slime laughed.

"No promises."

Walking out of the underground parking lot, she almost giggled at how absurd things were becoming.

"Puppy… did you just connect with a _teenager_!?"

Drawn in by the sheer absurdity of the non sequitur, Taylor formed an eye behind her and watched as the heroine stiffened, turning to pin her partner with a stare that could curdle milk.

"I connected with you, didn't I? Compared to that, it was easy."

The red hero put his hand over his heart, face drawn in mock pain.

"Oh the cruelty! Oh, the savagery! Whatever happened to the considered and kind Puppy that I knew?"

Taylor felt her lips twitch in amusement.

"I can be considerate and kind around… some people."

"Oh? Who?" He fake whispered.

"Anyone other than you."

It was funny, watching an adult man in full armor face planting. Taylor chuckled, stress leaving her body as she focused on the couple's antics. She appreciated what they were doing, her flesh calming down and roiling just a little bit less with every laugh, and she took a moment to just breathe.

"Paige, I'm coming. Just let me help a few people first!" 

* * *

"Huff, huff."

Paige's feet were on fire. Prison slippers did _not_ make good shoes for long distance travel. More than that, she and the good trooper had been trading off his wounded partner. And, frankly, her back was on fire. The shock of the earlier violence had helped her ignore the discomfort worming its way deep into her bones, but now that she had mostly accepted what had happened she could finally focus on how shitty she felt.

"I - huff - thought you said - huff,huff - that it was close?"

Sylvester huffed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

"It is. Should be just around this corner. Come on, trade off with me."

Johnny, the wounded trooper, grumbled as he was handed over to his buddy like a piece of meat.

"Let's just get somewhere we can sit down. I'm tired of hanging off of you people."

Snorting, Sylvester reached between his friend's legs and scooped him up into a fireman's carry.

"Quit bitching trooper. As for you, little miss convict, let's hope we don't get shot at again."

That was something the yellow haired girl could heartily agree with. The ugly, fist sized bruise spreading across her jaw was evidence enough that gunfights were _not_ for her.

"Thanks for not leaving me in that muzzle at least." Shrugging, Paige pushed forward, drawing a burst of speed from her exhausted legs, and caught up with her escort. "I don't think I could have made it this far without it."

Wearing the metal contraption had been… uncomfortable to say the least.

It wasn't a torture device per say, it didn't hurt to wear or caused her pain in any way.

Rather, it had been uncomfortable because she'd had to wear it for hours, and didn't have a way to communicate with anyone beyond nodding and very basic sign language or the warped garbles that only Taylor really seemed to _get_.

Having the thing take a bullet for her and then fall to pieces had been cathartic.

Feet pounding tarmac again, the same rhythm they'd kept up for the last hour, filled the silence. No one really had the energy to talk and no one was willing to complain or groan either. Not so long as the other two held out. And eventually they did round that final corner, a brightly lit gas station no more than a hundred yards away. There were even a couple cars idling out in front of it!

It was only when they were about forty or fifty feet away that they noticed something was wrong.

One of the windows was broken, quite badly, and the door had what looked liked _bullet_ holes in them. Even worse was the body lying prone outside of it. Bodies that very suspiciously had bandanas tied around their arms.

"Fucking Merchants!"

Sylvester hissed and swore, hunching over and gesturing for Canary to follow him behind some low scrub. Setting Johnny down, he checked his rifle, making sure a round was chambered, and started hashing out a plan.

"Ok, Johnny, I want you to stay back here. You've still got slugs right?"

The injured man ejected the shells from his shotgun before reloading them.

"Five, after that it's all buckshot."

Nodding, the senior trooper continued.

"All right then. Go prone on the edge of the road, keep those doors in sight. I'm gonna come around from the side and check the place out. Don't open up unless I really need it. If those ass holes have friends, we might be in for a bad time."

With Sylvester leading the way, the two of them approached the front door slowly, methodically.

Its entire front had been shattered, glass pieces littering the ground. Carefully, Paige followed the trooper until the two of them were crouching besides the wrecked door frame.

The trooper pushed it open, the creek of the door echoing on her ears.

_BANG!_

And then there was another bullet whistling past them, the loud bark of a handgun emptying itself into the door frame around them.

"Stay the _fuck_ out you _fucking_ junkies I'll kill every last one of you fuckers!"

"I'm not a Merch-"

Another bullet whizzed past them, the man inside screaming out again.

"Not gonna fall for that again! No fucking way!"

As Sylvester grunted and raised his rifle, Paige put her hand on his shoulder.

"Let me try?"

He understood what she was asking. Indecision warred in his eyes. Eventually, he nodded.

"I don't want to shoot a civy if I don't have to. Just… don't make me regret this?"

She nodded, nerves building.

"Can you just listen to us?!" She suddenly shouted. " We aren't Merchants!"

This time there weren't any shots fired.

"Oh yeah lady?! And how can I fucking tell?"

"We got attacked by some lunatics just outside of town, and they wrecked our car. We need to call for help."

There was a tense silence, though the blonde could hear the nervous bumping of the man's leg against the counter.

"Why come back? Shouldn't you be trying to get out of town? Things are a mess here!"

"One of us was hurt. It would take way too long to get to the next city with him like that. He needs medical attention. We don't want to hurt you, but you're gonna have to trust me on this."

The man didn't respond, only loaded his gun. Sylvester, for his part, looked ready to circle around and take advantage of the situation. Paise, for her part, felt her patience dwindle as she contemplated what else she could do. The man clearly was too frightened to listen to them, and would shoot anyone in a panic.

She had to find a way to calm him down.

'Come on, Paige. Think of something!'

She was a cape, wasn't she? What good were her powers if she only used them to sing at events?!

Wait a second…

That was it!

Her voice was rough, the bruise and mild swelling on her jaw making it hard for her to form the sounds she wanted. Instead of getting frustrated, Paige took a deep breath. Licking her lips she began to whistle, low and gentle and slow. Almost preternaturally heavy, the notes filled the air with a deep calm.

Paige knew her power was slow to act, especially with how agitated the man was, but even she was surprised when he quickly began to hum along.

Gently. Lightly. Paige hummed a random tune and switched to another, perfectly keeping harmony as her voice echoed across the station. With no words or commands, what she was relying on was intent, intent to calm down the panicky man inside the station, intent on letting them help him.

Of getting him help.

He must have been terrified, after all.

The city was likely falling apart as they spoke, and the place had already been ransacked by the Merchants, rabid madmen that they were.

So instead of dwelling on the doom hanging over them, she thought of good things, happy things. Of going on trips with her friends. Seeing sights, acting silly with her friends. She thought of the setting sun, of the warm light cascading over her body. Of doing what she loved to do most.

Making people happy.

That's why she took that deal for her powers.

Why she chose to perform. To make people forget the bad things, at least for a few moments.

Eventually, she stopped. Her jaw was still hurting and the trooper next to her was starting to look a little uncomfortable. When her music stopped, his shoulders relaxed. It was quite telling that they could still hear the man humming inside, even if she'd only used a sliver of her power.

Grunting, she stood up from where they'd been taking cover, gently stepping over the glass and dead body, and she found herself looking at… a kid.

He was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with a smattering of acne across both cheeks. Even his hairline was a little receding. But the rural, lower class boy, for what the farmer's tan, worn clothes, and bowl haircut suggested, was handling a large revolver like a pro. His grip was relaxed, the weapon held low and in an easy ready stance, as he closed his eyes and hummed along to a tune she hadn't started.

"My momma… used to sing me that lullaby."

Canary smiled at him.

"That's sweet. Is it ok if we come in? I mean, properly, I'm already obviously inside but-"

"I gotcha mam." The boy held up his hands. "How many of you, uh, extricated yourselves from a sticky situation."

It was clear he was eyeing her jumpsuit. Bright orange _did_ have certain connotations.

Paige chuckled.

"All of us. But I'm the only convict. The other two are what's left of the squad that was taking me to the airport."

"What's left of the squad?"

"Empire, maybe. That's what they thought."

With a grim nod, the young man's confusion disappeared.

"Not sure if parasites like them are better or worse than the Merchants. Oh! Sorry mam, let me get a… sheet… for that. Or something. Think I've got a tarp in the back." Muttering to himself by the end, he returned with a large black dust cover.

"Don't get that dirty." Sylvestor's boots crunched on the glass, the trooper turning sideways as he eased Johnny past the destroyed doors. "I'll take care of it as soon as I've got him settled. You got anything for pain? Stronger than tylenol?"

"Yes sir! There's a first aid kit in the back, I'll grab it!"

Rather awed by the two fully armed and armored PRT troopers, their reflective helmets and black body armor cutting _quite_ the striking figure, the cashier scurried into the employee's only area and returned with a large white box sporting green lettering.

"Here yah go. I, uh, I figure you know how to use this better than me. Anything I can do?"

Seeing that he was almost thrumming with nervous energy, Paige put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right. Let's go get them some water and something to eat. I'm sure the PRT will cover the costs. My name's Paige Mcabee, but you probably knew that. What's yours?"

Blushing, the young man almost seemed more astonished that a pretty woman was smiling at him than the two armed men performing first aid on his store floor.

"J-Jim! Jim Kalch, Miss Mcabee, I mean mam!"

Chuckling, Paige pulled him along.

"Well Jim, you can just call me Paige. And don't worry about calling me mam. Being raised with manners is a good thing, but it makes me feel old."

Now that she was paying attention, it was easy to detect the slight southern accent in the boy's voice. Maybe from the Carolinas or Virginia. She'd had clients and had performed there before. Still, they had work to do. Grabbing some trail mix, a tasty looking peanut butter thing, all the water they could carry, and anything they thought the troopers might want to eat the duo returned with a great bounty indeed.

"Honestly-" Jim began. "I hit the silent alarm an hour ago and my manager hasn't called me and the police aren't here. If I get shit for stealing from the store I'll sue. Might still have some hotdogs in the freezer. I can get those and some breakfast burritos on the rollers. Don't eat too many unless you wanna risk an _accident_, but they're hot and greasy."

As the lad stepped away, Sylvestor rolled Johnny back onto his side and handed the grumbling paramilitary officer a breakfast bar and a water bottle.

"Quit bitching Johnny, your back ain't broken." Turning to Canary, he elaborated. "He's bruised back there, and a piece of shrapnel is stuck in the side of his lower back, but the bleeding isn't bad and Johnny can still move his legs."

"Move them! They feel like they're on fire you son of a bitch!"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the one that wanted to volunteer for this mission, hazard pay you understand." At Paige's accepting nod of his aside, he continued. "I left the shrapnel in there after making sure it hadn't nicked anything important, wrapped him up, and he should be fine. When the kid comes back we'll take care of the bodies."

They ate and drank in silence, Jim coming back and loading the electric grill down with as many sausages and hotdogs as he could fit on it.

"Kid?"

"Yes sir?"

"You got a working phone?"

"Yes sir. Store phone is right behind the register. Dial nine to call out."

The trooper grumped a half hearted thanks, and walked to the back. The phone was inside a separate office, likely where the manager worked if the scattered papers were anything to go by. The room seemed fairly secure, with a multitude of locks on the inside, likely because the owner designed it as a safe room.

Smart decision, all things considered.

He quickly dialed a number, eyes trained on the doorway, just in case.

The phone beeped once.

Twice.

Three times.  
_  
"Identification code?"_ A voice rasped on the other end.

"Trooper S. Sylvestor, I.D. hash 0038781302, watchword 'Icepick'."

There was a pause.

_"Checks out. Transfering call."_

There was another round of beeping. This one being far longer than before, at least half a minute worth of waiting.

"Report, trooper."

Sylvester stiffened, spine going ramrod straight.

"There were… complications with our current assignment, sir."

The man on the other side didn't seem surprised. Rather, he seemed to have expected it. Collected, calm, unflappable.

He was always like that.

"And the target?"

Sylvester grimaced.

"Secured. There was a close call, but just a scare."

"Good, see to it that she remains that way. We are moving into phase three of the plan, and her continued well being is paramount to its success."

The implications were simple. Keep Canary alive.

"We were attack on our way out, Empire or Merchants, it doesn't matter. Right now we've taken shelter at a small gas station, but it ain't gonna be long before someone else comes around and sees her. If anyone else find out the girl is free, things are going to get complicated."

There was an amused chuckle from the other side of the line.

"I assure you, there are very few ways the situation could get any more complex, trooper. Brockton Bay is falling apart at the seams as we speak. Add anything else and they might quarantine it."

Which was bad.

As in, terribly bad.

Sylvester wasn't about to let it dissuade him, however.

"We need pick up. One of my men was injured." He started.

"I have a team ready. However, meeting you outside of town is too risky. They might draw too much attention. You will have to meet them on the way. Rendezvous Point Gamma."

But that was…!

"That's inside the Bay, sir."

"I am aware." A deadpan response cut him off.

"How are we supposed to get there with an injured man and Canary of all people?" He wanted to scream, to rage at the emotionless voice and its unreasonable demands.

But couldn't, not now at least.

"I trust you to make good use of your training, corporal. I assigned you to this mission with a clear purpose in mind. Make no mistake about it. If you try to jump ship and leave Brockton, I will know. Meet with the extraction team at Point Gamma in the next two hours. Those are your orders."

The "or else" went unsaid and fully understood.

"Yes sir. I'll find a way."

"Good. Should you succeed, I'm sure additional compensation will be forthcoming."

"Thank you sir. I'll pass it along."

"See that you do."

Sylvester sighed into the void, nothing left to do but figure out how he was going to get Paige out of this mess. The situation must have spiralled out of control, or perhaps, he'd been mistaken to think it was under control to begin with.

"Why the fuck did she have to save Johnny. Fuck." Grunting, he checked his sidearm and got up. "Time to take care of those bodies I suppose."

Paige was actually quite enjoying her second sausage, the hot meat popping and sizzling on her tongue. The onion was a little funky, but the fancy mustard they'd found was actually pretty good.

"Jim, you got any gloves?" Sylvester stepped out of the office, looking very frustrated.

"Yes sir."

"Go grab 'em for me. Let's see if we can get those bodies taken care of before they start stinking worse."

The two men did just that, clearing the front door out and even sweeping up most of the glass. Eventually, after washing their hands, they both sat back down. Jim finished eating while the trooper tore into his meal. And unfortunately, Paige wasn't sure how to ask the obvious question.

"So, what's the bad news boss?"

Johnny beat her to it.

"No pickup. We got to get to a rendezvous point in the city. There's just nothing unattached."

This was odd enough for the cape to question it.

"But why? Surely they'd want me to be secure as soon as possible?"

A grunt was her answer.

"Yeah." Sylvester answered. "I'd think that too. But I'm not sure just _how_ bad it is. Why the hell they couldn't spare an unmarked car, I don't know. I guess… are those cars still idling out there?"

Sticking her head out the door, Paige shouted back.

"Yeah, there's two of them!"

Plopping back down, the trooper was finishing off his last few bites.

"Well then, guess we'll be taking a car ride. As far as we can get with them at least. Johnny, time to hit the head."

Sighing, the wounded man popped another two pain pills, thankfully just some generic ibuprofen, and held up his arms.

"I'd ask the pretty lady to be the one to wipe my ass, but I'm afraid she'll just shoot me."

"Oh no." Canary shook her head. "I'd just make you do it."

That got a grim laugh from the wounded man.

They'd taken thirty minutes to wrap things up. Between Paige signing an autograph for Jim and Johnny convincing them to buy him a package of expensive salted caramels, the highly dangerous operation was starting to sound more and more like a road trip.

The weirdest road trip she'd ever taken, sure. And it's not like it could get any worse.

Right?

Tossing a half dozen air fresheners into the cleaner of the two vehicles and topping it off with gas were the last things they did before heading. In the end, this pit stop was markedly less violent than the all too sudden stop earlier. Paige had even been able to get most of her own scrapes and bumps taken care of.

Things were surely on the up! 

* * *

Taylor was swearing, the rubble coming loose and some not so tiny chunk were starting to hit her.

"Come on, keep running! This whole thing is coming down!"

Propped up in a makeshift doorway she'd eaten into the side of a collapsed building, it was all she could do to try to maintain a _semblance_ of structural stability. Ultimately, however, she knew it was only a matter of time before the people within would be stuck or worse.

"We're the last ones!"

A tall, shaved headed man, sporting several very _specific _tattoos came running down the pink tunnel her body had formed. The reason that was so odd was the fact he had an asian woman bleeding from a bad leg wound in his arms, what seemed like her kid hanging onto his back, and he was leading a particularly "diverse" group of people out of the tunnel.

"Just a little longer, keep moving! I swear to God I'll knock your teeth in if you slow down! Every last one of you fuckers _keep running_!"

Her body wobbled, a large chunk of cement squishing about a third of her. Unpleasant, if mildly so, but more disturbing was the fact her elasticity was failing. There were still fifteen people inside of her, so to speak. So, with a frustrated, full body grunt she began to rapidly expel mass; trading density for volume. This propped the structure up enough that the civilians were able to escape, even if her now much weaker body began to give.

However many uncountable tons of car park came down straight on top of Taylor.

Once she'd recovered from the mild panic attack, the dark, cramped, _very_ unpleasant space she'd been crushed into seeming _far_ too much like the Locker, Taylor slithered out.

"-ank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The crowd was cheering and celebrating the nazi, the easily 6' 5", 350 lb man simply standing there and looking confused. It was rather telling that he hadn't put the pretty woman down yet, at least as far as his racial convictions went.

"Hey, I've got a signal now, the police and EMTs are on the way!"

Some pink haired girl was crying into her phone, relief and happy tears obvious on her face. Taylor smiled and simply slithered off. From what little she'd heard and seen, this was their victory, not hers. And in the fifteen minutes she'd spent digging them out of the collapsed parking garage, there was no telling what had happened to Dinah or Paige. Obviously, either of them being harmed was unacceptable.

'It was nice though, helping for once.' Her thoughts turned dark. 'And if I hadn't… started… half of this, then there wouldn't be any need for me to have helped them.' Sighing, guilt and recrimination once more turning her stomach, Taylor pushed ahead. 'Nothing for it, I should just keep moving.'

Things had gotten _bad_. Right now, most of the actual fighting had died down, but the amount of damage was closer to an actual Endbringer attack than anything else. Whole neighborhoods had been gutted by flames, there were… bodies just lying in the middle of road sometimes, and even now there seemed to be dozens of emergencies and tragedies still playing out. Just like the group she'd rescued just now, there were others that needed help.

Most of them were hurt or bleeding or just panicking when Taylor found them. She'd spend thirty seconds or so to carry out basic triage, her flesh more than capable of sealing even the most horrific wounds and cleaning it of debris, before she found a phone and called 911.

Apparently, the emergency resources were scattered quite badly, most on call to deal with the aftermath of Lung. Even as she moved North, his lumbering, winged form rose and fell in the distance.

Between the thick haze of smoke lingering over the city and sea fog that had rolled in, visibility was shit. And that made the glimpses of his massive, scaled, _alien _form all the more terrifying. Distance and flickering, flashing light rendering what she knew to be a short, angry thug a terrifying eldritch monster.

Sirens echoed in the distance, closer than the others.

Diverting slightly, Taylor morphed her body until she could take a long, loping stride she'd found ate up the distance.

Clearing several blocks, she leapt up the side of a building, scaled it, leapt to the fire escape attached to its neighbor, and then clambered onto the roof. It was another fire. And a bad one.

There were two engines, desperately spraying down the blaze, and another dozen or so men in uniform trying to hold back the flames. The people who seemed to have lived there were standing outside, all dozen of them, as their apartment block went up in flames. Distressingly, there was a woman, who oddly seemed _almost_ familiar, on the street screaming and crying.

"My babbbby! My baaaaby!"

It was nothing but an endless, keening wail. The grown men around her, the ones that weren't trying to deal with the flames at least, looked away in awkward shame.

Were they… just gonna leave someone to die?

Something cold warped and twisted inside of her. Not that she had organs of course, it was more like she still felt things the same way a human did, at least emotionally. So a vice clamping around her metaphorical heart still felt the same way. Taylor took a deep breath, a wave rippling through her body, as she took in the burning building.

She was a hero, right?

That's what she said she was going to be, to make up for helping this mess.

Taylor was painfully aware she'd already spent an hour running around what was left of the Docks. That was time she'd spent trying to fix every little emergency and crisis she saw. An urge to do _something_ always building with each time there was a stranger in need. Half of it was guilt. Half of it was that same naive foolishness that made her squee a little when Armsmaster went into a short, half whispered monologue about some facet of her power. Or when Miss Militia had half apologized to her and then made an _effort_ to treat her fairly. ...And it was the same part of her being that she knew still yearned to be the little girl wearing a blanket around her neck and playing Alexandria with Emma.

She had prayed for a hero, prayed that someone, anyone would help her. Help her father. And now she had powers, now _she_ could be the Hero.

And this was the first time she saw someone in a truly desperate situation. The others were quiet or moaning or sobbing or blocked by mostly stable rubble and debris. If the city wasn't empty they'd have been saved right away.

But even with the few civilians standing around, there was no one there to help this woman.

If Taylor saw a scared woman screaming for her child as being more than a little too close to a scared teenage girl praying for the bullying to stop, well, that didn't change the fact she was on the clock.

But what kind of Hero was she if she turned away someone screaming for help?

All of this took two seconds to decide, her body moving before she could think.

What passed for Taylor's arms and legs tensed, literally coiling into thick springs as her mass concentrated itself into four powerful coils. When she launched, the ropey tendrils exploded, such was the raw energy that had been stored within them, droplets of pink goo being sent flying in a liquid back blast. The road under her was mostly intact. Mostly.

Having aimed high, Taylor tried to punch through a window that didn't have fire or smoke pouring out of it. Something about how a bunch of oxygen could cause a massive increase in the fire her father had mentioned wormed around the back of her mind. Of course, this was her first time, somehow, she assumed her power had responded to her desire, turned herself into a makeshift bubblegum torpedo.

So she punched straight through a wall, barrelled into the middle of the building, and had to literally pull herself back together.

Once she was ready to move, she pushed through a crack in the supply closet she'd ended up in and, well… the funny thing about being a blob of slime without tissue or muscles or any of those wonderfully squishy and often volatile components, is that despite not burning, Taylor could still feel the heat of the flames. She had no lungs yet she the air felt heavy, laden with smoke and ash from the swiftly collapsing structure.

Moving between gaps and openings, the slime girl felt her body liquify further as she pushed her way into the building.

There was no end to the possible entrances, after all.

What she couldn't do, however, was cause the whole thing to collapse. No, there was a civilian in the building and she had to find her! So, forming many, many, _many_ mouths, she screamed with literally every fiber of her being.

"**Hello! I'm here to help you!"**

Even as the hallways reverberated with the crackle of flames and the echoes of her scream, no one responded.

So she burrowed down a floor, having come in near the so far unburned top.

"**Hello! Is anyone there?!"**

Again, she screamed. Again, no one responded. Again, she burrowed down another floor.

"**I'm here to help you!"**

And again she screamed, no one responded, and so she burrowed down another floor.

"**Hello! Hello! Hello!"**

Taylor was half way through the building before, vaguely, in the distance, there was a scream.

"**I heard you! Scream again! I'm coming!"**

This time, from somewhere in the sprawl of the apartments, she heard another scream, what sounded like a young girl, the kind that was full of nothing but panic and fear and the unthinking need for someone to save her.

Of course it was from the direction of the greatest amount of fire.

At first, Taylor had tried to eat through the cooler areas of the building, the places that weren't burning. However, as another scream, this one clear enough that she could hear the child pleading for help, managed to push past the roar of the inferno Taylor reformed her eyes deep, deep within her body.

The image was blurry, and predictably pink, but more than enough to help her navigate through the room.

Probing around the least burning part of the wall, even as her skin bubbled and popped, the fire licking at her body and leaving blackened kiss across her form, Taylor eventually found a spot that was less "raging hot" than the rest. Feeding more and more of her stored body into the tendrils closest to the wall, she started to snuff out as much of the external flames as she could.

The smell of burning sugar mixed with the charcoaled building and, making sure the blackened, charred, wilting edges of her body formed an airtight seal with the wall, Taylor pushed through.

Inside of the apartment was Hell. Literally nothing but a red-orange wall of fire. Somehow, it seemed to be leaning _inwards_, towards a small girl, maybe seven or eight, who was made of living flame. Her eyes were burning blue gems, pushing out into a flickering, waving yellow and red and orange and pink face, tear trails of bright white liquid heat trailing across her cheeks.

'She's a cape! But… the fire wasn't spreading, so is she… she's keeping it in check!'

"H-h-h-h-hey!" It took her _several _tries to actually form a mouth that didn't flash fry. "I'm here to help!"

It was so hot in the room that her outermost layers were popping and boiling.

"I-I-I can save you. But you have to trust me!"

Still weeping, the child gave a jerky nod, apparently noticing that Taylor wasn't screaming in agony. Tensing up again, though with far less force this time, the slime girl braced for the pain she knew was about to come.

Fire hurt. A little.

It was like a small bruise that was being pressed on. Even the burning ash was like itching powder, at least until the heat was ablated and her body absorbed any remaining mass.

But swallowing a living, moving being made of fire, letting the heat and fury _inside_ of her?

That was agony.

For an infinitesimal second, when this child's powers were still pumping out at full strength, Taylor was containing enough heat to melt just about anything. That raw, undiluted energy was within her very core. Half of her stored mass was gone, just like that.

And Taylor held on. Touching the girl's body, the flames winked out of existence, her form reassembled itself, the blackened char being shifted to the outside, and then things got worse.

Rumbling, groaning, metal screeching on metal, the blaze _rampaged_ through the apartment building. Just as she'd suspected, this child was holding it back even as she fed the blaze. But now there was nothing to stop the natural spread of the flames. Chunks of burning debris began to fall, the building's structure starting to warp and shift.

Taylor wrapped around the now silent child as many times as she could, filtering cool, clean oxygen into the small bubble within her, and she braced for the impact she knew was to come.

The world became a dull roar and everything became fire and darkness.


	15. Chapter 14

**AN: Hello there! Ladies and gentlemen of the internet. Gather around one and all for the next installment of everyone's favorite slime girl adventure. Wyvern and the Warhawk proudly bring to you Social Anxiety: The Story!**

**AtW: Again, work life balance got in the way. And we wrote a lot of other stuff. But the spark for Flask just wasn't there. Too tired, too busy, too just plain worn out. HOWEVER! We are dedicated to this project. We want it to be all it can be. Plus Taylor is just adorable when she's smashing people.**

**In short, life sucks, people ended up in the hospital, and my muse took a nap. With the fishes. But she's back! And not just for lemons. So expect more regular updates. Ok?**

**Wyvern: And more lemons. This guy is like a machine!**

**So, without further ado, get reading! And don't forget to leave a comment or criticism!**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Brockton Asunder**

* * *

One of the first things Taylor had learned about her powers was that, no matter how much she moved or what she did, she was incapable of losing mass in the sense that normal humans lost weight. She was capable of consuming matter and adding it to her mass, but all that did was increase her overall size, and density, while giving her more material to shuffle around whenever she had to switch shapes.

During her tests, however, she found out one sure way to get rid of her added weight.

A very painful one.

If she couldn't burn mass the same way a human could, then all she had to do was literally burn it. As in get exposed to high enough energy discharge that it causes her mass to sublimate and break down.

That meant she didn't need to drag herself around every time she accumulated mass. But on the other hand, getting it removed hurts like a bitch and a half.

And she'd just lost most of what she'd gained during the evening. It wasn't the super heated ash, Taylor had figured out how to ablate the outer layers of her "skin" quickly enough. It hadn't been the burning skeleton of the building she'd been punching holes in, that had only caused mild annoyance and slightly less mild injuries when the flames had overcome her.

No. What had hurt the most had been swallowing a girl made of fire. Inside the core of her being, the heat had directly damaged a large proportion of her "body", so to speak, and that meant she'd had to give up mass to keep intact.

Blessedly, her powers had still worked.

Touching the child, because it had been a child, returned the Breaker to her human state. Unfortunately it also meant the room had literally exploded, the fire now freed from her, even moderate, control had swallowed everything. The building came down on them and so Taylor did the first things that came to mind.

One of the hundreds of tendrils she'd sent out finally found air. Having been buried alive, she'd lost her orientation and so contracted her omnidirectional excavation and began eating "left". More unfortunate was the fact she'd had to temporarily let go of the kid to make sure she wasn't crushed by the debris all around them. Fire was a bit harder to break than bone, after all.

Pushing out of the hole, she used chunks of cement to lift the girl up behind her, having sealed the child inside of her body, and climbed out.

It was a delicate situation, even now the young girl burnt away at the mass within her core, angry bubbling and sizzling coming from her body as she lost mass. Which she had to replace by eating through the wreckage.

It had been… disorienting, but Tailor finally managed to excavate her way out and triumphantly plopped out of the ground.

"Hello! I am here!" She quickly formed a few mouths, calling for help vibrating through her form as she struggled to keep the younger cape from being injured.

There was no way she would be able to keep an humanoid form, not while getting burnt from the inside by the tiny furnace of a girl, who was still scorching her mass into non existence. And god did it just, it was All Taylor could do was keep her contained and crawl along the ground calling for help.

Thankfully the firefighters were quick to respond and only gawked for a few seconds. Fire extinguishers were turned on Taylor's seemingly molten mass, the chemicals giving her enough time to grab the kid's ankle again, and soon enough she was stumbling to her feet, a small girl, maybe ten or eleven, shivering in her arms.

"Help, please, she's a cape. Breaker I think. I need a blanket or something for her!"

Looking like a six foot tall bubblegum pink barbie doll was probably worse than coming off as the Blob or a demon out of Hell. Way more chance of hitting the uncanny valley. But this was Brockton Bay and these firefighters were just glad they hadn't had to pull the charred, blackened, broken corpse of a small child out of the ruined apartment building. In other words, they complied.

Not that any of this slowed down the formerly hysterical woman. She was still crying, silently now, slowly walking towards Taylor with a look caught between pure horror and utter relief.

When the slime held the girl out for the firemen to wrap her in a blanket, that seemed to be some unspoken signal.

Rushing forward, she began blubbering again, this time in unabashed joy, simply holding her swaddled child to her chest and apologizing over and over again. For what, Taylor didn't know. But she didn't need to know either. Smiling, she double checked the anklet of slime she'd left on the new cape, no sense risking a flare up of the kid's powers, and began to run off.

A large, burly man in a hat and uniform, an officer of the fire brigade perhaps, approached her, trying to say something. Taylor just shook her head. He nodded, somehow understanding what she was trying to communicate. Instead, he just nodded towards the mother and her child.

Again, Taylor was struck by how oddly familiar both of them seemed, but in the end, didn't stick around to talk. She did notice the girl waking up though, soft brown eyes seemingly barely opening, just in time to catch her final glance.

The slime waved goodbye before she was off again.

Lashing out with a tendril like arm, she let the limb extend for several dozen meters, slightly eating into the structure of her target building, before Taylor contracted the new organ. Yanking herself forward several hundred feet, the teenager flew for a second before she splattered against the building she'd been aiming for. Not even bothering to reform, she launched another out and kept moving.

It was in this manner, slowly getting better at not exploding her body against whatever she was aiming for, that she cleared a huge portion of the Docks. After all, she'd been messing around for too long already and she had another kid, plus a friend, to save!

* * *

Dinah flinched as she heard another bottle break, more screams in angry chinese coming from the front of the run down house. There'd been a lot of that in the last thirty minutes now.

Not that she didn't know what they were talking about. With her power, it had taken her two questions to guess it was about a missing ride. And that said ride was a pickup for her. More disturbingly, that if that pickup did arrive her cousin and aunt, Sarah and Mary respectively, would end up dead or worse.

She was a bright girl.

On the other hand, her power was… unsure. Hesitant. Percentages kept getting wobbly sometimes and shifting around as, Dinah assumed, people made certain decisions. Right now her chance at survival was climbing, but so was the chance that every single one of _them_ would be dead.

And that didn't bother her. No, she was far more concerned by the fact that the chance of Aunt Mary being seriously injured was climbing too.

"Momma…."

Sarah was whimpering again, her stained nightie smeared with snot and tears and dirt.

"Shh, shh baby, it's gonna be ok. I promise."

Dinah never hated her powers as much as she did at that moment. Contrary to what her aunt promised, the chances of something terrible happening to them climbed higher and higher the longer it took for whatever it was the criminals outside waited for to happen. It didn't take parahuman abilities to infer from their slurred screaming and the shaking of the walls to know that things hadn't gone according to plan.

Was there even a plan to begin with?

The timing seemed to indicate so. Dinah wasn't particularly known to the public, and there were even fewer who knew she had powers.

The exact same powers which predicted that they had come for her and that her cousin and aunt were merely collateral, gotten caught in the crossfire of whatever misbegotten kidnapping those outside had planned.

Collateral damage meaning they weren't needed.

Meaning the probability of them being 'not needed anymore' was particularly high as it was.

The young girl bit her lip, unwilling to say anything about it.

What would be the chances of them being rescued?

She'd asked the question more than once since they'd been taken. But as frustrating as it was, the probability seemed to shift and warp without her ever being able to get a solid result. As if her powers couldn't grasp all the variables.

Whatever was causing her powers to spazz out like this, it was starting to mess around with her other predictions.

Making her less reliable by the minute.

And that was what was making her scared, not the screaming. She still pressed into her cousin, letting her aunt hold both of them close, as they tried to pretend the world wasn't about to end. Because quite frankly that's what it sounded like.

They'd heard the fires and the violence and even their captors weren't stupid enough to ignore the warnings to stay off the streets. But perhaps… her headache returned.

Violent and pounding, Dinah saw spots and she knew she was pushing her power too hard. Even if the nose bleed hadn't been a sign, the fact she was starting to skip small periods of time _was_. And that meant she needed to stop or she'd kill herself and then her family would suffer far, far, _far_ worse.

Of course, that might just be the panic.

Or cold logic.

Either way, it would be dumb.

So, instead, Dinah let her aunt hug her as hard as she could and kept thinking. Because they needed to know what was going on. Well, a much as possible. And that meant using her eyes and ears as much as she could. Obviously they'd searched the laundry room for a possible escape, finding only a single window that had been painted shut. She had suggested they try to pry it open, but the closest thing to a tool they'd found had been an old, rusted screwdriver.

The handle had snapped off when they tried to use it to scrape the paint clear and Aunt Mary had cut her hands trying to use the broken bits to try and work it through. When the gang members had sent someone to check on them, he'd slapped her and laughed, telling them in as crass a way as possible not to try to escape again.

His threats didn't bear repeating, especially since she knew he'd honor them.

Frankly, Dinah had been expecting this. Well, not _this_ exact kidnapping attempt. But the fact that someone would try.

She was an intelligent girl, intelligent enough to know just how rare Thinkers with precognitive abilities were. Not that she knew what those words meant before she'd gotten powers. But once she had them, it was clear that she would have to make a few decisions.

And she'd chosen wrong, it seemed.

That was something that deeply frustrated her. Her power had clearly indicated that choosing to only tell her parents, aunt, and uncle posed only a seven point zero, zero six percent chance of leading to someone being hurt because of her power. Of course that was still a non zero chance, but it was incredibly minor!

But that… made her think. What if she'd asked the wrong questions back then? What if she had allowed it to include her potential deaths, captures, or worse? In that case, it _would_ skew the chances of her… power… hurting… someone.

Dinah grunted in frustration, her brown eyes screwed up in frustration as it just now occurred to her that not only had she asked the wrong questions, but she asked them in the wrong way too!

Of course that was a moot point now.

A ninety nine percent chance of failure if she and her family tried to escape was… damning.

She just prayed that whoever or whatever was on their way made up its mind!

* * *

Taylor surged through the streets of Brockton, gelatinous body bounding and rebounding through alleys and avenues as the young parahuman turned prisoner turned temporary hero did her level best to leap her way towards the ongoing hostage situation, pinkish blob rippling and warping as she pushed its malleable form to its absolute limits.

She just hoped she wasn't late.

When that PRT commander left her knowing of the situation, the young woman hadn't spared a second before taking to the streets. She'd been forced to take detours constantly as entire streets had been wrecked by the worst of the fighting.

Fires and ruined vehicles blocked her path, likely left behind by vandals at the start of the fighting. Buildings had been left ruined, storefronts wrecked as criminals and anarchists ravaged the city looking for whatever loot they could get their hands on before the gangs hit the streets en masse.

Brockton Bay was falling apart at the seams and there wasn't much Taylor could do about it.

At least not as it stood. And that frustrated her to no end.

When you're sitting in a cell all day, left with nothing but your thoughts and a single friend who's as scared as you, then it's easy to slip into melancholy. To let your memories take over your days. To remember only the good times and let that bleed into your reality. Sure, it might seem weak, but it can be the only thing that keeps you sane during those long, long hours where the only thing to do is eat paint scraping off of your cell wall to try and see which brand was the tastiest.

And the thing that kept coming up were the old sleepovers she and Emma had, had.

One in particular came to mind.

They were young, probably only eight or nine, and loved playing superheroes. Because of course they did, it's what all kids did. Emma scraped her knee and Taylor had been the one to put a bandaid on it. She'd done it poorly, at a bad angle, and put one that was way, way too tiny onto the scrape… but it had worked, somehow, and they'd both calmed down.

It was a stupid thing to fixate on, of course, but she first remembered this after they'd had a talk. A talk where Emma had been the one to comfort her, keeping Taylor from breaking down at least three or four times. Things had changed so, so much. But now… those happier times, well, maybe….

Just maybe

Stretching forward, the slime girl pulled herself over the flaming husk of a bus, grabbing onto a lamp post as she pulled her body off the ground and vaulted over it. The heat licked over her mass, a rather unpleasant reminder of her encounter with the young parahuman girl with fire powers. It had been her first experience with such a powerful Blaster, something she hadn't had a chance of trying previously.

'Yeah, not going to do that again.' The feeling of being charcoaled from the inside was far from pleasant.

But at least she'd helped save the girl. Her first successful rescue as a… sorta hero? Parahuman Trainee Irregular? She hadn't exactly asked that man, Calvert wasn't it? Yeah, he was the commander who'd… recruited her? Bribed her? Bribed her.

That sounded bad. Like really bad, but Taylor just had to save this kid, grab Paige, and then they could get out of here.

Easy!

As scared as she'd been after her break out, the young woman knew what she went through was nothing compared to half of the horror stories she'd heard about the Birdcage. If those were true, then protecting her friend was worth risking her life. Even so, Taylor shivered. She had to pray it was worth it, at least.

Otherwise her escape, her fighting as well as everything she'd done up until now would be meaningless.

Forming another set of tendrils, she quickly latched onto wall, lamps, buildings. Everything she could reach for, that could keep her airborne and moving. The city blurred around her, eyes forming along the surface of her body, watching for the street signs that would tell her she'd arrived.

Even in that half zoned out state, simply letting her body expand and contract, devouring what she could as she stayed in constant motion, that Taylor's mind drifted again.

When she'd played superheroes, she'd always wanted to be Alexandria or Armsmaster and sometimes one of the New Wave heroes. And that was because of how she felt about them. It was… a childish reason, obviously, but it wasn't just because of how strong or cool or powerful they were. It was because everyone _knew_ how hard they worked.

Armsmaster slept two hours a night, Alexandria was flying across the entire world, and New Wave had a charity event every single weekend. _Every_. _Single_. _Weekend_.

These people didn't sleep, they didn't rest, they didn't take time off. No. They had power, they had responsibilities, and they acted on them. They chose to take the mantle of Hero upon themselves and would not set it down, no matter how heavy it grew. That was what was inspiring about them. And even right now, even as she was trying to help a scared little girl, Taylor was doing it for selfish reasons.

She felt like shit, honestly.

But that didn't matter.

There was a job to do. Steeling her metaphorical spine, Taylor cast out her tendrils for a particularly large jump and _pulled_. Soaring through the air, she flattened her body to better glide on the wind currents. She wasn't very good at it, not yet at least, but the more she practiced the better she was getting. So with steel in her dozen eyes, the pink slime rocketed towards the next intersection.

A name caught her eyes and she took a sharp turn, releasing her hold and letting her body crash into the ground.

She checked the street's name again, and the number just to be sure before relaxing into a puddle.

She'd finally arrived.

'Alright, now all I need to do is find…'

There was a scream, a girl's voice calling for help, by a woman's scream of pain echoing through the empty streets below.

* * *

Dinah was really, really worried now. Time was starting to run out and it was clear that the chance of her family getting out of this fully intact was starting to approach zero. Another loud shout, this one partly in slurred English, filled the small house.

Their odds just hit zero.

She… didn't know what to do. Her power was purely passive now, mostly serving as awareness that the odds _were_ shifting, and that was probably more to do with the sheer stress she was under, while her brain felt like it was going to split apart. In fact, just moving hurt at this point and the only reason she wasn't whimpering was because making that much noise would hurt too.

There was more shouting again and this time it was clear someone was hit too, the thud of something hard striking someone, the sound of glass hitting the floor.

And finally, the sound of the door being kicked open and hitting the wall behind it.

One of them men who'd taken them strolled in with wobbly steps, the side of his head was bleeding and in his hand he carried a gun. He slurred something to himself, Dinah's power supplying that the likelihood of him being concussed was around eighty three percent, and blood poured over his left eye.

She clutched tighter onto her aunt.

The possibility of something terrible happening had just peaked.

One hundred percent.

"Stupid gaijin, we shouldn't have taken this job."

He crouched down, alcohol thick on his breath.

"Lung doesn't pay well you see. He kills you if you actually want to live like a man." The thug turned his head and shouted something over his shoulder, another man bringing him a green glass bottle. "So you live like a dog and _maybe_ he kills you. But we were offered a lot of money for you."

Tilting the bottle back, he took a long, long pull of the alcohol within.

"Now little gaijin. You tell me why someone was willing to pay seven figures for you, yes?"

None of them spoke, none of them even dared to breathe. This just pissed the man off more and he waved the gun in their faces.

"Tell me! Tell me now or I shoot!"

His accent was coming in thicker and thicker the angrier the man grew.

"Stupid fucking whores."

Snarling, he pulled the gun back and slammed it into Aunt Mary's head.

She screamed, head snapping to the side, but didn't fall over. Instead, she pulled Dinah and Sarah closer, shielding them with her body as best she could.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Now the man was screaming too. "Stop screaming or I shoot

girl!"

Enraged, he started grabbing for Sarah. Dinah had a choice to make. In that moment she knew what happened next was up to her. She didn't bother consulting her power, instead, she pulled Sarah closer and shifted her body so the drunken, enraged man would be able to grab her instead.

It hurt when he grabbed her hair, jerking her head back. The precog finally let out a whimper as he roughly wrapped his arm around her throat and put the gun to her head.

"You talk now." His voice was low and dangerous, angry. "Yes. You talk now."

Aunt Mary tried to help her, but the cock of the hammer on the revolver was enough to stop her. They locked eyes. Dinah tried to let her know it was ok. Instead, the woman's face just grew hard.

"I-that is-my husband… he took money. He took money from the Empire and didn't help them. He was supposed to make sure they could raid the Police Evidence Depository for a shipment of cocaine, instead he took the money and did nothing. That-you don't need the girls. Just please, let them go. He'll pay you so long as you just have me, I swear!"

This got a laugh from the thug, one that was cold and cruel and hollow.

"Stupid bitch. You no think I know who hired me?"

Dinah was thrown to the floor, cracking her head on the cold linoleum as the enraged man strode over to Aunt Mary. Shoving his gun into her mouth, he laughed again.

"I give you one last chance. I know the children special. I no know _which_ girl special. You tell me truth, tell me what her power is too, I let you and the other one go. Otherwise you die. They both get sold as fresh meat. Understand?"

Mary swallowed, Dinah could see her throat working, her eyes narrowed to the hand and handle of the gun inside of her.

"I… I… don't know."

She closed her eyes and the man snarled, pulling the trigger once. Dinah's first thought was that guns were _loud_. The ringing in her ears covered up even the screaming of her and her cousin and her aunt. A second later, she watched as he raised the gun and fired it again, this time into the window. He just laughed as the three scared women lay there and screamed, Dinah crawling back over to her aunt and cousin when something heavy pinned her down, pressing against her back.

The man gurgled a hacking laugh. It was clear that he was either drunk or scared or simple enough out of fucks to give that hurting them didn't matter anymore. That hurting them was what he _wanted_ right now. And that meant there was probably nothing she could do to save them. Not so long as her head was on fire, ants were crawling in her skull, and hammers were slamming into her ears. In fact, it was all she could do to just keep conscious through the haze of pain and sound and fear.

Likelihood of being shot had just been raised to a hundred percent.

She closed her eyes, cheeks stinging with tears as she thought of her parents.

There was a loud crash,and her world faded into… pink?

Likelihood of being saved had gone up to a hundred percent.

* * *

Taylor exploded through the wall like a battering ram, zero resistance being put up by the thin wall of cheap plaster and half rotter wood. Her undulating, writhing, pulsing, surging mass dissolving a path through. Consuming every molecule of resistance, the blob crashed over the room like a roaring wave, terrifying, if slightly less so due to the fact she was bright pink.

She'd wasted no time on climbing the building, opting for the direct approach, considering someone was shooting a gun. There was no way she could allow someone to get hurt when she could do something to help them, regardless of whether they were the person she was here to rescue or not.

Because that's what heroes did, right?

Fortunately, it seemed the slime girl had hit the jackpot. Not only did she find the mayor's niece, she also did so just as the man had been about to put a bullet through her head. Lucky for both of them, considering how frayed her nerves were getting.

However her twelve eyes, those were the ones pointed into the room, told her all she needed to know about the mayor's wife and daughter. And judging by the blown out hole in the older woman's cheek? She would need medical attention. Meaning Taylor simply could _not _afford to waste time with the mook.

Flask felt her body ripple and shift around the shooter, her mass carrying him off the ground only to slam him against the ceiling with a thunderous impact. She did not stop there either, wrapping around the man like a vice and pulling him out of his full body print, only to spin around and throw him through the door like a ragdoll.

Her gaze remained locked on him, four eyes watching as he splintered the faux wood, embedded himself in the walls of the hallway, and then slid to the ground.

Laying there, limbs twisted up, looking like a puppet with its string cut… he looked… odd.

'I… may have gone overboard.'

He was breathing, though, and frankly she couldn't be bothered to care right now. Taylor knew what she looked like though, so didn't waste time trying to comfort the civilians. Instead, she simply vibrated her body to communicate.

"I'm here to rescue you. Let me clear the rest of the building and then we'll get you out of here."

She got a shaky nod from the woman. Good enough.

Not that she was comfortable leaving them alone. Not when one of them was bleeding like that, but there was no way she was going to put them in danger when there could be more of those goons all over the building. This was the mayor's family, so there was no chance just two men had come up with this idea.

And even if they did, they would need the hired muscle.

"I'm gonna need you to stay up here and hide, okay?" Her form shifted, becoming more humanoid, as close as she could manage under these circumstances, and pointed to the door adjacent to the room.

"Stay inside, there could be more of them downstairs. I will come pick you up when this place is clear."

With that, Taylor felt her body come apart and seep through the floor, her pink mass corroding the building's innards as she took the fastest route to the lower floor. Whoever said there weren't advantages to becoming a ball of slime certainly had never tried being one.

Even so, Taylor was starting to grow weary.

She would beat the gangsters and save the family, there was no doubt about it, not when there was nothing they could do to hurt her. The problem is what came next.

Could she trust Calvert? Would he keep his side of the deal?

And even if he did… what should Taylor do?

'Save Paige, of course.' The answer was obvious. It was why she had broken out of the Rig to begin with. Why she threw away any and all possibility of escaping being imprisoned for life. All so she could save a friend from the same fate. It felt like the right thing to do and she wouldn't regret it. Couldn't, or otherwise everything would be for nothing.

But what next?

She could fight her way through the whole city, find Paige and then take her back to the hospital. Or whatever safehouse the two of them could find. It wasn't like the slime girl was in any danger. But what about Paige? What about her father? Both had been so worried for her, encouraging her that she still had a chance of getting away without having to be Caged. Yet here she was, fresh off having broken out of prison and carrying out a raid on the ABB.

However, that was for later. Now was for fighting.

Sitting in the ceiling, a thin covering of paint all that separated her from the hostiles below, and Taylor took a deep breath. And then she struck. Lashing out with almost thirty tentacles, she rapidly struck out, thirty eyes guiding a tendril each.

She really did need that much firepower too. There were three men standing next to the stairs alone, firearms pointing up to the next floor as another three took posts at the windows, near a kitchen area, and behind a couch. Frankly, even as damage resistant as she was, Taylor had to admit the sheer variety of weapons took her aback.

Shiny rifles, shotguns, handguns, what looked like a PKM, something she only recognized because of CoD. It was strange. Because all the PRT had come at her with her handguns.

Or, she supposed, Brute tasers and foam sprayers. But these thugs were packing more heat than them!

Slamming into them, she used a tentacle to grab their weapons, snapping fingers and wrists with the sudden, violent jerking motion, wrapped their heads with her tentacles, and _squeezed_.

They screamed. Fought and clawed and thrashed and jumped and kick and bit and spat and did everything they could to throw her off. Taylor simply dropped her body to the bottom floor, a loud thump announcing her arrival, and slammed the thugs into the nearest wall of floor she had available. And frankly… she couldn't even be bothered to spare a second though for the people she was rather severely injured.

These men were rapists and slavers and drug pushers and murderers. The ABB enslaved women, killed men to harvest their organs, and slaughtered everyone who stood up to them. A concussion or two was a small price to pay compared to cutting a man open and yanking out his kidneys, leaving him to drown in his own blood.

Of course, that wasn't the end of things. Another man, wearing only a pair of khaki shorts and flip flops and with a massive, sprawling oriental dragon tattooed across his torso, stepped out of a kitchen area.

Racking a shotgun, he screamed something in a language she didn't even recognize and opened fire.

At first, she wasn't concerned. It wasn't like a gun could hurt her, right?

Then whatever he shot _turned into a wall of fire_! Flames licked at her skin, drawing a horrific, inhuman screech from Taylor, before she lashed out with a long tentacle. slamming into the side of the man's face, she sent him to the ground with a shattered jaw. Just to be sure, she also made sure to drag his gun over to her body and ate that too. No sense in taking chances after all.

With the house quiet except for the whimpers of the man with the ruined face, the shape shifter grew about thirty ears, pointing in all directions, and listened for any sound at all.

Silence, except for rats and pain, she sent long, thin, eye equipped tendrils into every other room, even as she stretched her body back up to the upper floor. Clearing this one too, she made sure the place really was clear.

"Hey." She returned to her mostly human shape. "They're all taken care of. Are you ok?"

* * *

'Holy shit, I'm alive!' Dinah's first thought after being saved had been human, understandable, predictable one could say. And none would even accuse her of being juvenile for indulging in a moment of profanity.

Heart hammering against her chest, the young girl had seen her life flash before her eyes for a second there before her… pink savior had literally crashed through the wall. Almost like some sort of kool aid commercial. And then a wave of tentacles began attacking the criminal and literally eating his gun before sending him flying into the wall, not unlike someone tossed a bag of trash into a bin, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

It had been scary and awe inspiring both at the same time.

Then she had remembered her aunt had been shot and promptly started panicking again.

The three of them had taken to hiding in the bathroom, which unfortunately lacked any sort of first aid kit. The most they could do was make a press with some old toilet paper to try and stop the bleeding. And boy oh boy had she nearly fainted at the sight of it once the sheer, unbridled terror had worn off.

Of course, it was nothing compared to the mass of eldritch wrongness wreaking havoc down stairs.

Just being near it… her… was enough to make Dinah's powers clam up like it suddenly had gone deaf and blind. No matter which question she tried to ask, the answers varied so wildly she couldn't even understand them.

'What is our chance of leaving this place?'

**Killer clams will raid florida.**

What the hell did that even mean?!

Were her powers drunk or something?

It certainly explained why they were telling her of impending doom until that slime woman had crashed through the building. If her powers couldn't begin to understand her, then it would just ignore her presence altogether and act as if she weren't a factor.

But being so close. There was no way her powers wouldn't try to account for her.

'What are the chances of my aunt's wound getting infected?'

**Rubber bands sauced with beetle juice.**

Dinah ran her hands through her hair, frustrated.

'Emphasis on _try_.'

Why was she giving herself a headache when the answers were all useless!? And then, with her aunt's blood covering her hand, she realized that her headache… really wasn't that bad. Five minutes ago it felt like her brain had turned to hot sauce and a family of gophers were having an orgy in there. And right now it just kind of hurt.

Like getting punched in the face a couple times, instead of having soccer cleats stomped into her skull.

'God I have to drop the internet for a few weeks after this.' It was doing weird things to her vocabulary.

Not like she could even use any of the juicy words she learned to describe what must be happening downstairs. She hadn't expected to be rescued by a living bubblegum hero, but she wouldn't whine about it.

Not when the other option would be a bullet through her noggin.

She was allergic to those, thank you very much.

Not that her brain was doing her any good right now.

Everything felt fuzzy, her mind bounced around from one line of thought to the next as the stress slowly leaked her system, adrenaline leaving her twitchy and breathless as she clung to her aunt's T-shirt.

Everything was fine.

She survived. She was gonna be okay.

Her powers couldn't predict her odds, not unless she wanted another brain fart. But she was sure that as long as they stuck to that parahuman girl the same way she stuck to the walls, they would be fine.

'What are the odds she will protect us?' She asked in a reflex.

_**YESYESYESYEYESYESYESYEYES**_

Heart hammering against her chest, Dinah couldn't settle on what to feel. She was happy they had been rescued, afraid for her aunt, angry at the gang members who'd taken them for her powers, frustrated with her powers, and terrified by the concept of what was downstairs that had saved her.

These thoughts cycled through her mind unendingly, as if her mind had tied itself into a loop.

She didn't… couldn't know how she felt.

The world felt so small… and she was trapped in her own head.

Eventually, the gunfire and screaming stopped.

Heavy footsteps made their way up to the bathroom, Dinah catching a flash of a twisting, writhing mass of tendrils that made her shudder in involuntary disgust.

"Are you, well, not ok. Are any of you in immediate danger?"

Now mostly humanoid, looking a bit like a bubblegum barbie doll, their savior stepped into the room. Mary's whimper got a frown from the shapeshifter who took a step back and seemed to take a moment of intense concentration.

Finally appearing like a human, except for the pink skin, she walked back towards them and knelt down.

"Hello. My name is Taylor Hebert. I came to help."

Smiling, the young woman waited for them to make the first move.

Dinah felt her head flash in pain. Just looking at her made her spine crawl with the wrongness of it. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be alive. What was… who was… why did she…

Her vision spun and Dinah felt her knees wobble as he stumbled forward.

Only for a pinkish hand to catch her, causing her mind to finally clear up, as if murky waves had been parted by divine mandate. She blinked, the sensation of eldritch wrongness having completely vanished.

She was… normal?

"Hey… are you okay? Have you hit your head?" Frowning again, the woman set her on the ground, one hand keeping in contact with her. "What's your name? Like I said, I'm Taylor."

Mumbling, she managed to respond.

"Dinah."

"Nice to meet you Dinah. Did you hit your head or your face? Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Headache."

Their savior sucked in air through her teeth.

"Ok. I want you to stay right here and I'll be back. Just need to check up on your family, got me?"

A nod was all she could manage. Despite her headache having cleared for a moment, an odd thickness had lingered in her mind. Like she was swimming in jello. So, when her savior returned, carrying her cousin and her aunt, Dinah didn't really realize they were moving until she felt the wind in her hair.

The three of them had all of three seconds before the girl's human form bulged and expanded over them like a, a strange bouncy mass of slime keeping them safely tucked inside the amorphous parahuman as she dragged herself out of the building and into the street. Rolling down the asphalt like a giant soccer ball.

Dinah rubbed her eyes, still trying to comprehend it all.

One thing she was sure of, however.

'Weirdest. Rescue. Ever.'

* * *

Moving like this was fast. Like, fast, _fast_. Half because Taylor just rolled over any damaged sections of the street and half because the girl really could move. It was almost comedic how she'd swallow debris, fallen power or telephone lines, or really anything in their way, not even slow down, and leave a clean, clair road behind them.

But the journey wasn't long, not for them at least, and the tour of burned out wrecks, half collapsed buildings, and empty streets wasn't exactly awe inspiring.

And even if it would have been, the ocassiaonal explosioins in the distance and the roars of an angry demon would have ruined it. Thankfully, the noises seemed to be moving away from where they were headed.

"Ms. Hebert. Welcome back. My men will take them from here."

Blinking, Dinah realized she must have dozed off, because now there were a trio of costumed heroes and a small army of uniformed PRT personnel standing around them.

"Mrs. Alcott was shot and her niece, Dinah, possibly has a head injury. Mary has some cuts and a bad scrape that needs to be looked at."

Nurses soon had her bundled onto a stretcher, but, before they took her away, the precog gave her hero one last dopey smile and squeezed the tentacle that was still holding her wrist.

Taylor smiled back at her.

'She understands. That's good.'

"Commander Calvert." Taylor's voice was melancholy, a touch regretful. "I've held up my end of the bargain. Where's Paige?"

Nodding, the man didn't waste anytime at all.

"The last contact I had with her escort is that they were enroute to safehouse november four. That is located at number seventy one Smith's and Briar street. Off of Ashton and just south of the Frank and Franks Junkyard."

Taylor's many eyes went wide.

"That's right where Lung is heading!"

Shrugging, the man seemed truly unconcerned.

"He wasn't when we spoke. And it was the closest safe house to where they returned to the city, being in the north west. If the dragon hadn't looped around they'd have been well West of the ABB's insurgency and South of the cape fight. They've been on radio silence since then. For obvious reasons."

A hundred thoughts flashed through Taylor's head, some of them boiling down to killing the man in front of her. In the end, she settled on one question.

"Why don't you care."

Calvert's lips pulled back. A slight tightening of his features.

"I don't like losing men. But I have no way of looking for them and if Velocity is caught by Lung he is dead. In short, no matter how it galls me, I will trade two troopers for a high level Mover if I must. You, Ms. Hebert, have a shot at shaving both my men and your friend."

Inclining his head, his voice actually wavered for a moment.

"Please do so."

Feeling unimaginably guilty, Taylor did just that. Without another word she had turned in place and began launching herself from building to building, the eyes of a hundred people on her back but only one person in her thought.

"Hold on Paige. I'm almost there!"


	16. Chapter 15

**AN: Hello, everyone! Wyvern and the Warhawk are back again with the next installment of everyone's weirdest thing on their favorite list: Crouching Slime, Angry Dragon! As always, we thank those of you who have followed us in our journey. It has been a blast, and both of us are really proud of having come this far with the story.**

**AtW: This year has so far been wild for everyone. And I'm just glad I've had something to do other than go insane. Still, the first arc is starting to come to a close. I hope it's been as enjoyable for you guys to read as it was for us to write.**

**Wyvern: Going forward, we hope to continue writing this story since it seems to have gathered quite a few readers. But for now, let's move onto the chapter.**

**Time to get reading, folks!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Brockton Asunder (Finale)**

* * *

Paige's calves were screaming in pain as she tried to keep up with her "escort".

"Should be right around the corner. Keep moving."

Johnny's pack was slung over her back and Sylvestor was helping the now somewhat recovered man hobble along. Walking was not something they'd planned for, but the car had ended up attracting the attention of a very, _very_ desperate looking group of… people.

And that was her being polite.

She shivered thinking about what those men had looked like. Covered in blood and ash and wearing the ruins of red and green clothes, there had been at least twenty of them. Maybe more.

All that the singer knew is that their little trio had fled, on foot, as fast as they could when they were told to get out of the vehicle at gunpoint. They didn't even take anything else from them, desperate to take the car and leave the city as most would be.

And if they heard gunshots behind them?

Well, that wasn't their problem anymore.

"The house with the green door. Number four. Key should be under a loose chunk of the doorstep, right hand side."

Jogging up the driveway, Paige pulled an old, molded entry mat out of the way and began feeling along the cracked concrete for a loose piece. Pulling it out, and shaking a cockroach at least three inches long off of her hand, she scrabbled blindly in the dirt for the key.

"Thank you Jesus."

"Amen." Johnny, the wounded trooper, mumbled.

Not a religious woman, she still needed to take a moment to thank whomever was looking out for her.

Jiggling the key in the lock, she pushed the door open and immediately stepped back as Sylvestor stuck the barrel of his gun in the house.

Limbing inside, he dropped his partner on the old, beaten, and stained couch, leaving the man both long guns, before sweeping the entire house room to room with his handgun. Coming back into the living room, having finished his check and closed every door behind him, the tall, graying trooper closed and locked the front door before tipping an empty bookshelf down in front of it.

"We're clear."

Hand flexing around the grip of his pistol, the man didn't seem to believe his own words.

Paige, however, was not a hardened veteran of Brockton Bay. No, she was a mostly normal young woman who'd just been through the second worst night of her life. And it was very, _very_ eagerly bucking for first. Feeling her finger start to squeeze down on the trigger of the handgun she'd been given, she grunted and flicked the safety on. Handing it over to Johnny, who was still spooning his shotgun, she couldn't stop the snicker that boiled up out of her gut.

The whole place screamed 'hidden bunker', and not of the good kind really. As if someone had bought several storage units and pieced them together to create a mini apartment. The floor was simple concrete with a few ratty carpets here and there.

The sofa was in solid condition, and by solid she meant not about to collapse under the weight of a single person. Fortunately the lights weren't in need to be changed, so electricity was still going.

No televisions or radios though, only a fridge sitting next to a small counter with a tap.

Hopefully no one left something rotten for them to find. Pulling one one of the simple folding chairs over to the counter, Paige sat back, letting the officers have the couch to themselves. She… just wasn't ready to be in restricted spaces any time soon.

Maybe that's why Taylor felt that way about them…

Though she wasn't about to start eating the walls out of frustration.

"You okay there, man?" Sylvester called.

His partner just took a deep steady breath, arms coiled around the gun in a vice.

"Nothing… just… finding God for the past two hours or so. Give me a bit." The man groaned tiredly, clutching his rifle even closer.

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back. At least for Paige.

Hysterical and painful, laughter bubbled out of her.

"Oh my God! Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Holding her face in her hands, eyes wide, spit flying from her lips, fear and terror and relief and joy and sorrow and victory rushing through her veins like white lightning, it was all the young woman could do to rock in place. Tears, fat and salty began to slide down her cheeks. Her mouth was hurting, even as the muscles in her cheeks pulled tighter and tighter.

She wanted to vomit.

She wanted to scream.

On and on and on the laughter came until, eventually, it didn't. Great, heaving sobs replaced the maniacal laughter as Paige did everything she could not to cry. Thankfully this too passed, leaving the young woman hollowed out and exhausted. But, at least, in control of herself.

That was when she noticed that both of the troopers had a hand on one of her shoulders.

"Feeling better?"

Sylvester handed her a water bottle, answering her confused look with a wry grin.

"From the kitchen."

Draining half of the water in a single long swallow, she eventually splashed a bit on her face, using a hand towel he also provided to clean her eyes.

"Yeah. But damn Johnny, that was a terrible joke."

The trooper just gave a dismissive snort.

"Wasn't no joke. I'm going to Sunday Mass, Wednesday Service, and Thursday Bible Study after this. Shoot. I'm twenty three and I've almost died more times tonight than in the last five years."

Paige blinked slowly.

"What were you doing at eighteen years old that could get you killed?" She asked.

"Working for the PRT." He chuckled.

The singer let out a long suffering sigh, all her stress, frustration, and the building tension leaving her body in a single, final gust of breathy air.

"This city is seriously fucked up." Between the shootings, nearly dying in a car accident, having to coax a man into not shooting her again in self defense, and just avoiding another similar experience she was starting to believe that something crazy must have gotten into the water.

One thing confused her though.

"Why is this still going on? Shouldn't the rest of the PRT have already sent someone to wrap things up? Boston isn't all that far away from here." She'd heard the warnings on the radio when the initial blowout started, and some of the occasional reports her two custody officers slash body guards got.

Things should have calmed down a fair bit after the big names started hitting the streets.

"That… is a very good question." The trooper bit his lip. "Honestly, they didn't set off the sirens, but we heard explosions on the way in. And those guys looked like ABB. Lung may or may not currently be earning his kill order."

"Yeah." Johnny sat up, unclasping part of his ballistic vest. "But that doesn't explain why it's _still_ going on. Miss Militia or Alexandria or someone should have put him down by now."

"Him?" The cape singer felt her head pulse with frustration, the lack of any information about Brockton capes finally coming back to bite her ass. "Who's lung? A biotinker? What?"

Fortunately, the other officer saw fit to cover for her.

"He means _Lung_. Big chinese man. Turns into an even bigger dragon. Really hard not to miss. You must have at least heard about Kyushu right? Well, that was him getting into a pissing contest with Leviathan."

A loud explosion, all of a sudden _much_ closer than the others had been, actually rattled the safehouse and sent the trio into high alert.

"Fuck."

Sylvester leapt off the couch and ran into a back room. Coming back with a large, clunky, brick looking phone he punched in a particularly long number and started pacing. Ten seconds later, Paige heard a click and a woman's voice on the end.

"This is PRT Trooper I.D. number four-four-zero-zero-two-three-six-five-five, attempting to contact Commander Calvert, watch word Icepick."

There was a faint screech of static before a voice finally answered.

"Watch word confirmed. Glad to hear from you Trooper. This is the Rig's communication channel. Your status?"

"My partner is wounded, the rest of the squad is dead, our vehicle was destroyed, I've been trying to get into contact with dispatch for a while now, what's going on out there?"

Suddenly, there was frantic talking on the other end, muffled, as if the phone had been turned away from the conversation. A good twenty second passed before the voice returned.

"The situation around the city hasn't gotten much better, trooper. Lung refuses to stand down, you have Empire capes attacking the Boardwalk, and the Rig suffered a mass breakout amidst all the chaos. We are short handed trying to contain Lung, most of our assets are tied up keeping him from ramping up further."

There was faint clicking.

"I am getting in contact with units close to your position. It's not an extraction team, but they might be able to escort you to the Docks."

Another explosion shook the house, this one very much too close for comfort.

"Dispatch, is that Lung getting closer? Or Oni Lee? What's up with these explosions?"

Hurried, muffled whispers echoed over the line.

"Trooper, is the prisoner compliant? Has she attempted to escape?"

Spine stiffening, the voice of another woman, this one much, much stronger, took over.

"No mam! Canary has assisted both myself and my partner and a civilian. Totally compliant."

Johnny mouthed "Director Piggot" at Paige when she gave him a confused look.

"Understood. As of right now, the only nearby team we have is currently engaging ABB forces in a running gun battle. You have the choice of waiting for them to arrive and joining their convoy or attempting to make it to the nearest Endbringer Shelter. It's two blocks away at the intersection of Main and Kingstreet."

The three shared an almost painfully pregnant look, another explosion, this one slightly more distant, shaking them again.

"How far away is the shelter mam? And what kind of reception should we be expecting?"

"The bay is going up in flames, trooper. Right now, you can either avoid the worst or pray it doesn't find you."

There was another bout of static, this one accompanied by rasped yelling as the Director started shouting orders, too muffled for the trio to make out.

The communication's officer came back instead.

"Officer, I need you and your group to remain calm. We've received a report that the fight to contain Lung has spilled out near your area. We have warned Armsmaster of your position, and he will try and buy you as much time as possible, but I'm gonna need you to get to the shelter as soon as you can."

"Understood. I'll call when we make it there." Hanging up, he turned to the other two. "All right. Grab what you need and then we're moving."

This time, the explosion did more than just shake them. No, they heard a massive, ear splitting roar, the sound of giant wings, and _then_ their world was sent flying.

Paige and Sylvestor had Johnny up and moving towards the door in under a second, pausing only long enough to drag the bookshelf out of the way of the door. Stumbling out into the street, they had to stop and stare in horror at what they saw.

Falling from the Heavens, like a great, blasphemous star, a truly massive, four winged _abomination_ screamed as metal aircraft darted and wove around it.

Waves of fire poured off the thing's alien body, its massive split lips drooping open to vomit balls of sticky, cloying, burning death, even as it began a sudden plummet back towards the city.

Now they understood what the explosions had been.

"He was freakin jumping."

Johnny kicked his partner in the leg.

"What the fuck are we standing around for. Run!"

Even then, somehow, the mighty dragon saw them. Twisting its wings, he dove, roaring in blind, unthinking fury as a trail of black smoke and red fire spiralled in his wake.

* * *

Colin Wallis had plenty of experience when it came to being a hero.

One didn't simply come to Brockton Bay and last long otherwise. He'd been a hero for years before he decided he'd done enough, seen enough, to make a serious push against the chaotic elements of society. He'd trained his body to its absolute limits, years of blood, sweat, and tears to turn himself into the most optimal user for his own creations possible.

The road had been difficult, he wouldn't lie, but the man behind the name of Armsmaster thought that everything he lived through at this point would give him the presence of mind he needed to deal with whatever problems the parahuman madhouse could throw at him.

The past few hours had done a lot to dissuade him from such views.

Now, mind you, it hadn't been the most difficult incident he'd been sent to deal with. Anyone who'd faced an Endbringer attack and lived to tell the tale could tell you that.

But this?

This was messier.

There was no greater enemy to unite against. No common cause guiding humanity to take up arms for the sake of survival against an enemy they were hopelessly outmatched by. No rallying cry of a great hero to his fellows.

This was war. A churning cauldron of violence and rage which had fallen over his city like veil. Smoke rose from the streets, alarms and sirens of all kinds rang throughout Brockton as the authorities stretched themselves thin trying to put out the proverbial and quite literal fires. It wasn't at all like anything the veteran hero had come to experience.

This was his home. And it was burning.

Lung screeched in the distance, the great, alien monster recoiling from where Miss Militia blasted him again.

Ever since this fight had started, his respect for the woman had only grown. Not that he thought poorly of her before, but ever since she'd stopped playing around he'd felt a bit… attracted? Respectful? Impressed? Colin wasn't the best with his emotions. But he did know she'd shown exactly how powerful a skilled Blaster could be.

Hefting his halberd, he began jogging again, moving towards a position he could intercept the villain from. And maybe get his bike back, the motorcycle having disappeared an hour ago in a particularly nasty blast of fire.

And it was purely for the practical benefit of the increased mobility and not the fact his knees were on fire.

'And not in the literal sense either.' Though he'd come very close to it a few times.

The hero jumped over an upturned car, eyes following the holographic display of his helmet as it followed the overwhelming heat signature of the dragon-like abomination. He'd just dashed past the smoking carcass of a bus when his comlink screeched to life, a garbled noise nearly deafening him as it game into focus.

_"Rig to Armsmaster, copy. Do you read this?"_ A panting voice called from the other side, a slight echo ringing on his ears.

"Go for Armsmaster."

_"Oh, thank god." _The other voice let out a sigh of relief. _"We've been trying to contact you for a few minutes now. We've just received an update on Canary's transport and current location."_

"Did it make it to the airport? Is she still secure?"

There was a crackling of static.

_"Negative. Her transport was attacked outside the city. We've managed to get into contact with two officers however. Their team took heavy losses, but they managed to accompany her back to Brockton. They are hiding, but without an extraction team, they are likely to be put at risk."  
_  
A new display flared to life before his eyes, a massive flashing red dot on his map.

_"We've sent you their coordinates. Commander Calvert has sent an extraction team, but it will take some time to arrive."_

"Understood. Status on containing Lung? And Dragon's ETA?"

Even as he spoke, his feet never stopped slamming into the ground. Lungs burning, veins singing with a chemical buzz, legs cramping, his eyes stinging with sweat and strain and the soot that'd stained his visorc, he kept moving.

'Note to self, carry helmet sealing attachment at all times.'

Spinning around a corner, ignoring the ball of fire the lit the sky like the return of Christ Almighty, he rolled his wrist.

Muscles loose, heart thundering, he pivoted on his foot as he cleared the smouldering ruins of an old supermarket. And as the heat smacked him in the face like a physical force, Armsmaster _heaved_ his weapon with every ounce of strength he had. Screaming through the air it slammed into Lung's achilles tendon. Already charging forward, he clamped onto the end of the shaft and used his momentum and leverage to saw through the great fucking lizard's foot.

Scales cracked, muscles tore, and bones snapped, all as Lung threw an enraged backhand at where he'd been three seconds before.

And even as his shoulder plate sparked across the asphalt floor, his back _throbbing_ in pain as he rolled, Colin popped up, weapon at the ready, and cleaved through Lung's now gargantuan pinky.

This time, flailing and barely able to keep its balance, the already healing alien beast opened its X split mouth to unleash a wave of fire. Seeing the massive opportunity, the blue power armored hero almost sagged in relief when his backup took it.

Hannah, bouncing off the side of an apartment building, fired an RPG straight into the gangster's opened mouth before her weapon transformed into some kind of anti material rifle and unleashed a deluge of explosive shells even as she fell backwards, landed into a shoulder tuck, and came up on the other side firing a bulky blue laser gun.

Lung was more occupied by the fact his shredded face was slowly knitting itself back together.

Tilting his head at his second in command, the hero sent a series of beeps and clicks into her earwig before dashing forward again.

Aiming his grappling hook for a particularly… suggestive patch of scales in Lung's crotch, Armsmaster fired. And then ran his taser up the metallic Tinkertech nanotuble wires straight into the great fucker's junk. Miss Militia complimented his assault but blowing out three of the dragon's six eyes.

Unfortunately, their time was up because his feet were healed and the insane, blood thirsty, desperate monstrosity was coming back for round two.

Thankfully, the timely intervention of the BBB coming in for a strafing run distracted him.

Those twenty extra seconds being all that he needed to have his motorcycle come screeching around the corner. Badly singed, and clearly damaged, but functional, Colin didn't even need it to slow down in order to mount the suped up super cycle and he only needed to dip _just_ below fifty miles an hour to safely scoop Miss Militia off the ground.

"Good to see you Colin! I thought that kick might have finally gotten you!"

He grunted.

"His heel spike clipped me." His chest plate, which had a three or four inch dent in it, scraped against his bleeding and probably broken ribs every time he took a breath. "I'm combat functional. You?"

Hana spun around, having hooked her belt onto his utility belt, and began firing various weapons at their pursuer as her driver managed to break ninety on the cluttered roads.

"Better than Dauntless. He took a blast head on, barely survived. Fried half his skin _inside_ his armor."

'Better than Challenger' Colin thought in reflex. Perhaps the one regret he'd carry long after this day was over. His colleague had been one of the major losses ever since Lung started his rampage. His alien form was simply too fierce and destructive for them to properly contain; it had taken the loss of one of their own for the situation to finally sink in.

That by the end of the day any one of them could be lost to the madness overtaking the city. A bitter pill to swallow, but one he'd come to grips with later. He would rectify this lapse in preparedness later. Once he had time to properly evaluate the mistakes that contributed to everything that had gone wrong tonight. Because, at the end of the day, Colin was in charge. And that meant tonight had been _his_ fuckup.

Now, he needed to be objective. No matter how much vindication he'd felt after striking at the monster's weak spot. They had lost a dear friend, one who had been about to move onto a better life, only to have her future taken.

Colin finally noticed the smell of burnt hair and skin, finally taking the time to fully look at Miss Militia even as he trusted the driving to his suit's sensors.

"And you?"

"Panacea can fix me."

His respect jumped another notch. And people said_ he _was the stubborn one.

"Good. Try and keep his focus on us, Canary's transport was destroyed and I'm trying to lead him away from their safehouse. I think one of his jumps might have hit it already, but the troopers might have survived."

Another dot, this one a light blue, suddenly appeared on his interface.

'Must be the extraction team.' The signature read as a support unit, and their departure point was from the hospital.

Though his display might have glitched. The small dot was seemingly moving in erratic patterns, passing through buildings as if they weren't even present. Colin would have to check if none of the hardware had been damaged during the fight later. He would have to proceed with the plan of stalling Lung until the extraction unit arrived, without knowing when that would be.

Joy.

"Dragon's ETA?" The masked woman inquired.

"Ten minutes, at least." She's had to fly all the way from Canada, after all. Weather conditions were also a factor. On top of the bullshit involved with sending multiple armed aircraft into U.S. airspace, into an active battle zone, with an unknown number of civilians in the way.

Miss Militia nodded in assent.

"All we need to do is hold him back for that long, yes?"

Colin smiled sardonically. She always made things seem so simple. Then again, he was also one for the direct approach.

Reaching for his halberd, the hero adjusted the blade into overheat mode. An orange glow spreading out from the dusty blade. It wouldn't be able to keep the monster of a man down, but it would still hurt him.

"Who knows. We might be finished before either of them get here."

That actually got a laugh.

"Unlikely. Still, I find it suspicious."

"That the Endbringer sirens didn't go off? That they opened the shelters? Or the fact that we haven't gotten any further back up, despite National Guard units having been engaged by armed criminals? Or simply the fact that tonight has seen the demise of every major power in the Bay except for Coil?"

He politely waited for the very, _very_ loud retort of what his suit told him was a twenty millimeter anti aircraft gun to die off before responding.

"Yes."

Spinning around a corner several things happened in very, very rapid succession.

First, his suit's sensors identified a _landmine_ of all things. He, obviously, swerved to dodge it. And several claymores, half buried in rubble, then slammed into the front of his damaged ride.

Normally, that wouldn't have done more than dent the armor. Unfortunately, tonight had been anything but normal.

First his never-flat tire popped, the wheel simply having been shredded, before his machine turned and began to flip. Reacting instinctively, he leapt free, pulling Hanah to his chest as he jumped, and held the wounded woman tight.

His flight lasted three seconds. Just long enough for Colin to realize this was going to really, _really_ hurt. Tucking his chin, he angled his body as best he could and grunted when his arm landed first. Thankfully, he'd successfully shielded his second in command from the impact. Unfortunately, as his head rapidly and repeatedly slammed into the ground, his visor shattered and his world went black.

Coming to, and realizing that he'd been out for only a second, the veteran hero almost screamed when he saw a truly _massive_ hand reach down from the sky, ready to crush him.

"Fuck you, you racist, cocksucking, limp dicked faggot!"

Miss Militia, clothes ruined, blood pouring down her left arm, hefted a truly intimidating cannon about as big as she was. Firing it, a bolt of green energy about the size of a pencil punched through Lung's skull, sending a shower of meat and bone and brains flying into the night sky, even as Colin's built in geiger counter started going insane.

This time screaming as he stood up, blood pouring out of the ruined socket of his right shoulder, he ignored the crunching of what was left of his right leg. His armor was the one doing the walking now but it was enough for him to snatch up his still burning halberd.

Lung's ruined, cratered face was already knitting itself back together and the seemingly immortal freak began stomping forward.

One handed, because his right arm just _would not move_, Armsmaster brought his damaged, sparking, flashing weapon around and into a small gap between two scales. It bit deep, several warnings tried to flicker across his visor, and then it just erupted into a shower of sparks.

Finally, for the first time that night, the villain's blow found solid purchase on the wounded super hero.

"'Gahck!'"

Choking on his spit, his entire world went black again. Blinking, water rushing in his ears, blood pooling over his eyes and in his mouth, Colin returned to the world of the waking once more.

His right arm was totally numb.

Servos were smoking and whining in his armor.

Spots were dancing across his vision.

'Cold. I'm… so… cold.'

Some part of him was aware he was probably going into shock. He hoped it was from a concussion and not blood pooling in his lungs and internal bleeding.

Spitting a thick wad of bloody mucus to the side, along with a tooth, he managed, despite the seemingly unending agony that filled his world, to climb to his feet. Putting one foot in front of the other, he staggered forward.

"Fuck."

Hana was down. The skin around her hands was blackened, shriveled like rotten fruit, and the skin on her face that hadn't been protected by her bandana was cracked and bloody.

Firing that gun had saved his life. And it might have killed his… teammate?

'No. If we live… I'll buy her… a beer.'

"Friends do that, right?"

He didn't mean to mumble that, but the words slipped out anyways.

Another roar filled the night sky, this one an unearthly howl of victory and triumph. Colin simply ignored it and hobbled over to his friend, palming the last of his back up weapons, a measly little unaugmented knife, and, as the great alien monster swung around, he managed to not fall over as he tried to shield the wounded heroine behind him.

Off in the distance, he could see lights. Probably the BBB. Maybe gunfire. His vision was swimming.

Dauntless was down, Velocity had been shot saving a guardsman from a group of ABB, Assault and Battery simply couldn't do anything about Lung, Challenger was dead, Triumph was MIA, the Wards were down, Sere and Dovetail had been at the Rig when it was overwhelmed….

"Kenta Shotaro" Another violent cough. "Alias, Lung." Another violent, bloody, hacking, body shaking cough. "You are… under arrest."

The monster laughed, a cruel and alien sound, before bringing its giant, flaming foot forward.

Colin smiled, his knife never wavering, as a god like beast prepared to squish him like the bug he was. Death granted him a clarity he'd never truly known before. Ambition, fame, power, position, rank, _control_. In the end, none of it mattered. But one thing did.

"I guess I have a lot of regrets. But Dragon… if you hear this… I love you."

And his world went pink. Just as the foot began its descent, the entire street _exploded_ upwards as a solid wall of shining, glistening, writhing bubblegum slime pushed upwards like a surging geyser.

Knocked backwards, Lung was smashed far, far away even as more and more of the city simply disappeared under the onslaught of the all consuming bubble gum tsunami.

Shifting, writhing and warping, the mass of liquid seemed to spin on itself, gaining momentum as it crashed against the monstrous cape once more. The force of the impact, as well as the loose footing making the four armed and four winged dragon slide back and crash against the ground.

Never mind the ground shaking with the force of the fall, Collin could barely hold back his relief as the mass seemed to bubble and transform, part of its shape becoming roughly humanoid, with an elongated snout for a face and an extra pair or arms.

A form he'd come to be very familiar with over the course of the last few weeks.

Standing over the two wounded heroes, the girl, Taylor Hebert coalesced into an equally gargantuan monster form, all manners of tendrils and spikes forming over the titanic body as she roared her challenge at Lung.

Belatedly, he realized that the communicator on his wrist had started beeping.

A simple message on display as the blue dot he'd dismissed sooner sat literally on top of them.

'The extraction team has arrived!'

His knees went weak, relief mingling with pain and exhaustion. Colin wanted to collapse. Instead, he bent over and checked Hana, finding her pulse weak but there. Making sure she hadn't injured her neck or spine, he grunted, ignoring possible concerns over radioactivity, and managed to get her on his back in a one armed fireman's carry.

Yes, he was exhausted and wounded and bleeding and concussed and barely able to move. But he _could _walk, and as the smaller portion of the mass, the one that looked humanoid, nodded at him and merged back into the greater whole, so he did.

"Come on… just… a few dozen yards. Gotta get clear… of the fight."

Colin was a hero, after all. And heroes don't quit.

* * *

Taylor was moving fast, flooding through literally miles of sewer tunnels all at once. Her mind was… taking a bit of a backseat at this point. Having handed over a lot of control to her gut instincts. Which, at this moment, amounted to eating everything that wasn't alive or bigger than a large insect.

The explosions above her were getting closer and far, far worse. She knew that meant Lung was getting violent. More violent than his low level burning, incandescent fury had him anyways.

And most importantly, the sounds were also coming from the same direction Paige was supposed to be in.

With how widespread his trail of destruction was, that meant there was also a damn good chance she was at risk too. As much as Taylor really, really, _really_ didn't want to fight a giant angry alien rage dragon, she would.

Sending up another wave of eyes, she saw a massive shadow come crashing down just a little ways ahead of her. And a very, very beat up Armsmaster.

'Fuck.' The slime girl indulged in a curse. 'Ok. Ok, ok, ok, ok. Let's do this.'

It took about two seconds to eat through the road above her. With the sheer amount of mass she was packing, and she had just left the majority of Brockton Bay's sewer system spotless for the first time since they were built, Taylor was closer to a tidal wave of pink death than a girl. That didn't stop the utterly pants-wetting spike of fear that shot down her not-spine when Lung's X split maw opened and her hundreds of eyes could watch as flames licked up the sides of his throat.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

A thousand mouths screamed in unison, because this hurt.

No, it _hurthurthurthurthurthurt_.

Lashing out blindly with a wave of multiple meter thick tentacles, she smacked Lung away and took the chance to gather the whole of her body. Because a good chunk of her body was just burned off.

Reforming, Taylor took the shape of a hellspawned octopus. Or at the very least, that's how people would come to refer to it, anyway. Large eyes sprouted along the upper part of her body, which by now looked like a swirling mass of tentacles whipping about in a frenzied rage.

Buildings cracked and fell apart as the cape girl pushed herself upward, the lower half of her body having melted down into a massive puddle of pink slime. It took all of Taylor's focus just to maintain the rough humanoid form, never mind the various complex ocular structures covering her.

If her balance weren't shot due to the shift in weight, she was sure she would be falling over herself with vertigo.

Up until now, Taylor had been able to steamroll just about any obstacle by adding mass to her own body. It was disgustingly crude, a far cry from when she was trying so hard to regain human shape, in fact it could be said that she was doing the opposite, making it even harder for her to maintain any form of control over her body.

Even now, as she lumbered towards the Dragon of Kyushu, the young cape couldn't do much other than create simple limbs and eyes.

They had become something of a specialty for her since her time on the Rig.

'At least I won't squish someone by mistake.'

Still, she felt tired.

So very tired. And heavy.

Heavy with guilt.

This wasn't what she had wanted. Not by a long shot. Over the course of one day she had broken out of prison, injured the Wards for a second time. Killed a man, invaded a hospital, and helped a gang of criminals escape. It was all too much too soon and things just went by so fast she could hardly keep up.

'Paige, I am doing this for Paige.'

Her friend. The only one who could understand what she was going through. There was no way she would have let them take her away, trial or no trial. Everything she had done up until this point was to save her. She was the reason why Taylor accepted Calvert's bargain. Why she slithered her way all over the city.

If it got her a chance to save her friend, then it was worth the risk.

And it lead to this.

Standing across from the massive alien creature, it took all of Taylor's focus to keep her giant form steady, increasingly nervous bubbles rippling through her shape as the temperature skyrocketed.

'Tch. It just had to be fire.' She was really starting to get annoyed.

Was this how the average cape felt? Having a body that could be hurt and weaknesses that could be exploited? She had gotten so used to being untouchable that it had gotten to her metaphorical head. And now she was stuck fighting her worst possible match.

But that didn't matter. She saw Armsmaster finally get around a building and that meant the area was clearish. So, with her eyes still roaming the burning hellscape for so much as a glimpse of her friend, she gathered her body and _pushed_.

Her waist bulged, insides spilling out in a wave as she pushed several ruined buildings into Lung's knees. It did little besides stagger him, but that was all she needed to slam several tons of pink slime into his jaw in a vicious uppercut, snapping the dragon's head skyward and letting his next blast of fire harmlessly wash the sky.

Lunging with the whole of her body, Taylor tried to find some inch of his body that wasn't on fire. She didn't need to beat him, per se, but try and shut his power off. Even if it was only for a second.

Unfortunately, all of Lung, at this point, _was_ on fire.

So as reems of black, carbonized flesh was turned into clouds of billowing, black ash the raging slime monster attempted to smother her enemy.

Flapping his wings as hard as he could, the rival kaiju scattered much of the protective layer of hardened, blackened mass his foe had accumulated around herself. It was enough that his flaming claws scored deep, deep slashes into her, tearing out huge globs of pink flesh.

Taylor screamed. It was nonsensical, no words were in it. Just pure, unadulterated pain.

Because, unlike with the girl, she was now truly _huge_. She towered above even Lung now. And his claws just dug trenches the size of school busses into her body.

Flame licked at her insides, a red haze ringing through her skull, and something finally snapped. Just like with the locker, things dimmed, the world went dull, and just like with the locker she _attacked_.

Blind, her eyes having been scoured out of the front of the trunk of her body, she used the sense of Lung's raging inferno to target him. And the little bit of Taylor that was thinking was just glad he was burning enough of her off that debris was raining down over the city.

But that was irrelevant. Lung was trying to back away, lashing out and severing huge lengths of her tentacles when she lashed out, while Taylor was doing everything she could to swarm him.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the literal miles of mass she had to pull upon, the fight would have already been over.

Because for every slap and lash the giant slime landed, she lost dozens of meters of limbs to the four armed dragon freak. And even when she managed to wrap an arm or a clawed hand enough matter to restrain it, he'd just hit her with a blast of fire and force Taylor to back off.

Even worse was the simple fact his wings kept Lung moving quickly enough to avoid her main body.

Frustration mounting, Taylor's body split in half, a thousand, thousand small, wriggling tendrils lancing out in a sudden, writhing volley and covering Lung's torso. He, of course, roared and unleashed a deluge of fire. And that burned through the center of the mass, penetrating deeply enough to strike his foe in the torso, but the sheer weight of the attack managed to wash over the dragon's defense. Slamming into the thin membranes of his wings, and finally finding purchase, those tiny limbs bit down.

Feeling flesh tear and split, the ravenous slime's thin limbs tried to push deeper into its screaming, flailing prey. But Lung's violent slashing and the frantic, panicking flaps of his wings were enough to let him unleash another wave of fire.

Bathing in his own flame, the alien beast purged the spreading, pink corruption from his body. At least enough for his slightly slower regeneration to burn off the rest.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, remaining in motion, the dragon kept its distance now. Clearly wary of another mass assault, he was analyzing the fight now. Hate was still burning in Lung's alien gaze, but, not that Taylor could see this, now it was tempered with a ruthless kind of cunning.

Hands brought up like a boxer, fists held loosely, wings tucked in close to his back, the alien abomination roared out a challenge and unleashed a blast of fire.

This time, Taylor took it on the charred part of her torso. Blackened flesh disintegrated into nothing, but the heat didn't burn as deep. And new layers of char replaced the lost insulation. Hundred of mouths forming in response, the bubblegum titan screamed right back.

And got socked in the face for her trouble.

With a flap of his leathery, flaming wings Lung had pounced forward. All four arms working in concert, his silvery scales flowed like shining water as bestial, eldritch empowered muscles worked in an unceasing rhythm.

Abandoning his earlier wild slashes and volleys of shallow blows, the crime lord instead kept his body in tight; only flaring his wings when he needed the extra movement, keeping his unused arms in tight, keeping his feet firmly planted. Taylor tried her best to counter attack, of course. But wrapping her tentacles around one arm meant the other three were free to slash at her.

Even worse, any large flurries or rapid barrages of fresh tentacles were met with a fireball directly into the fresh matter.

Then there was the small caveat of her powers not working.

She wasn't sure how or why, but everytime Taylor attempted to subdue the monster, she simply couldn't make contact. Her power required touch. And apparently several centimeters, or several feet depending on what part of her body was in contact with him, of burned, charred, carbonized flesh didn't count as "her" anymore.

Pain slowly started to wash out her vision. Nothing Taylor was doing was getting through and she was beginning to panic.

Her body boiled and sizzled, even as she tried to recover mass, the heat was just too much.

That was when a deep, deep thrum began to fill her entire body.

It was, she thought, a subsonic vibration of some kind. And she honestly had no idea what it meant. And when a searing blast of blue light streaked out of the sky and punched a hole in Lung's chest, she reacted more out of blind instinct than true thought, body rippling and spinning as a long tendril rammed itself onto the dragon's chest, sending it tumbling back.

'What… was that?' The slime girl gurgled in confusion as she tried to pull her body back together.

Just in time to watch as half dozen suits of armor roared out of the heavens, raining death onto the gargantuan target. Lasers, machine guns, missiles, rockets, grenades, what looked like a plasma cannon… all of them unleashed their furry on the beast and all it did was piss Lung off.

Using her rear eyes, the few that were still intact, Taylor saw a strange, vaguely draconic craft set down in the rubble. The particularly suggestive shape of the vehicle finally confirmed her savior's identity.

'Dragon is here!'

And she'd bought her a few seconds!

'Come on, Taylor. One more time!' The pavement and debris around Taylor vanished as she recovered, body swelling once more into its octopus blob monster form.

Just in time for Lung to get back up.

Alright. Time for Round 2!

* * *

Paige was conflicted.

Why, you ask?

Well, between whooping for joy as her friend surged through the sewers in a pink reinvention of the Blob Monster. The heart attack she had when the gangster nearly roasted her and then relief she felt when Dragon came swooping in with all guns blazing; the singer thought she might have lost ten years of life.

"That's Flask?! I thought she was supposed to be human sized!" Sylvestor called out from her side as they ran away from the ongoing cape slugfest, ducking and weaving between buildings as hell fire and explosions followed their steps.

"She was when I left! Not sure what they've been feeding her at the Rig though."

When the warning came that Lung was just about to crash on top of them, the somewhat rested but still cranky group made haste and got the hell out of the safehouse. They weren't gonna stick around if it meant getting in the way of a cape fight.

Especially one involving Lung.

Existential crisis and emotional rollercoasters aside, they were both handling it better than Johnny.

"Oh God, oh no. I don't wanna die! Please, no!"

His partner jostled him as they turned down a corner.

"Now is not the time, John!" He snapped.

Unfortunately, that didn't help with the man's nerves.

"The Hell it isn't. We're in a fuck off angry giant monster flick!"

Explosions roared behind them, this time from Dragon's blasters scoring deep furrows in the villain's carapace. While this only distracted him, it was enough for Taylor to land a flurry of brutal strikes on his still healing chest.

This, obviously, focused the rage monster back on the more immediate threat but that seemed to be what the duo wanted.

Because, looking up into the hazy, foggy sky, there was a bright blow glow steadily building in intensity. And it looked like it was coming from a particularly fat VTOL craft that still vaguely resembled one of Dragon's aircraft with a giant honking gun sticking out the front. So if that was what made the first move of this intervention, then it looked like it needed time to recharge. Time Taylor was all too eager to pay for with more of her body.

A sudden wash of heated air hit the trio again, the obvious source being another fireball, and this time they didn't even stumble.

Honestly, as they carefully maneuvered between seemingly endless tracts of debris, this whole night having simply become surreal. And focusing on not turning your ankle or slipping was something they could control. Not whether one of the angry gods fighting in the heavens was going to step on them, accidentally or otherwise.

It was still a cold comfort.

Gritting her teeth, the blonde singer soldiered on and cursed the fact her muscles had _just_ started to stiffen up before they had to run again.

Not that she wasn't used to that by now.

Another loud, explosive bark of the railgun or whatever Dragon had brought and then, after a second of wet squelches, she had to stop and turn. Looking up at the pair of intertwined titans, Paige heard the purely oddest sound she had ever conceived of in her entire life. Like a giant vacuum cleaner suddenly put into reverse. It was wet and crunchy and just… _sloppy_.

Almost like a giant cup of pudding being rapidly upended and wetly smacked into a wall.

Paige firmly blamed her delirium on exhaustion.

Wrapping the center of Lung's torso in several pulsating tentacles, Taylor had seemingly sealed up the wound caused by Dragon's tinker tech wunderwaffe.

And only after she stopped and stared, did she understand what she was seeing.

Taylor, or rather _Flask_, in the throes of battle lust or simply out of some alien instinct, had begun to force more and more of her body _inside Lung's wound_.

Pulsing, writhing, bulging, the slime burrowed ever deeper and, when the alien dragon monster thing tried to unleash a blast of fire, a several dozen meter long tentacle erupted from his throat. Chest bulging, stomach distended, intestines wriggling, Lung began to fall forward.

Catching him in a multi tendriled embrace, the slime simply took this opportunity to shove enough of its seemingly infinite body inside Lung's still regenerating body until he began to inflate. And swell. And then, like an over filled balloon, he popped.

It was obviously more violent than that.

The sudden release of pressure sounded like a bomb going off. And a wall of pink-silver meat was sent flying up into the air and hundreds of small tentacles waved in the air.

She blinked.

And stumbled.

And laughed.

Pure hysteria stole past her lips as the unimaginable incredulity of the situation made itself absolutely, starkly clear. Pinching her cheeks as hard as she could, Paige began to hiccup and cough and sob as tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

The now torsoless legs began to fall forward, enough slime washing over them to dissolve the no longer healing limbs before any of it so much as brushed the ground.

In that moment, the world stood still.

Right then, that slime had just killed the closest thing to a hard counter it had in the state. Dragon's weapons would have done less damage than Lung's firebreath. Everyone else was dead or wounded. And the Triumvirate was nowhere to be seen. Had Flask wanted, she could have consumed the city.

Instead, the traumatized blonde singer was knocked on her shapely ass by a small, almost pink ball of dry, smooth, slightly rubbery teenage girl. Because it was most certainly _Taylor_ and not her power that was crying in her friend's arms.

Paige realized then and there that it was over.


	17. Chapter 16

**AN: Hello there~**

**I bid all of our loyal readers welcome to the final chapter of Flask's first Arc. An idea that started off as a humble one shot brought full circle as it finishes its first stretch. Of many to come, so I hope!**

**AtW: As you may have noticed, our output has varied wildly. This is partly due to health problems on my end, partly due to real life drama, and partly due to good old fashioned stress. However, this experience has been invaluable. And it is only because of you guys and Wyvern that I even write at all. So I thank you and hope you've loved this journey as much as I have.**

**Wyvern: That and I am officially unemployed, so hurray for personal issues! Joking aside, we loved this project and hope that you all have enjoyed the tale of the slimiest girl to ever slime.**

**Even so, onto the reading!**

**AtW: And don't forget to leave a review!**

* * *

**Chapter 16 - The Aftermath**

* * *

The crack of a gavel echoed through cold, somewhat damp air.

"Court… is now in session."

Judge Mirvin Ridgewood III sighed. He was an older black man, with a heavy moustache that and a large belly. A combination that made him look somewhat like a slowly balding walrus.

"Ahem." Watching him clear his throat made Taylor shiver a bit. "Now, Ms. Hebert, I suppose that it's time I spoke to you directly. Without your lawyer's intervention."

Lizzy smiled, all sharp teeth and self indulgent victory. The ball of slime preferred her stare.

"Yes sir."

She was polite, to the point. Vibrating her faux throat took enough focus that being short and to the point was all she could manage right now. At least when she was holding her body together.

He sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair, glancing up at the cracked, water logged wall that had formerly been the entrance of the courthouse.

"The truth of the matter is, I'm just not sure what to do here. Despite the advice of your lawyer, and my personal preferences, you have explicitly requested I render judgement in your case rather than take it to a trial the attorney general himself admits he's unsure is capable of even being prosecuted."

"I trust Ms. Beauvoir."

Again, the judge sighed.

"To be blunt, even in the seventy two hours I have spent reviewing your case I have not even fully read out one tenth of the witness statements. And to that end, I have only just actually finished the indictment itself. Even more disturbing is that the nearly three thousand charges laid out against you are, while technically correct, absurd in their quantity. Yet none, I found, could even be partly described as spurious."

It said something that a black man would be able to remain a judge in a city partly dominated by nazis. Perhaps about the apathy of those who thought they held power through fear. Perhaps about the strength and resilience of American citizens. Perhaps neither and it was merely an old man's stubbornness.

"In brief, you have inflicted more damage to the city and the Parahuman Response Team than any other cape in this city except for the madman you killed."

Taylor flinched. Her control wavering for a second.

"Considering the fact you saved two heroes and materially contributed to the end of a threat to the city, I can not in good conscience sentence you to prison for the nearly thousand years of cumulative jail time you would be facing. More to the point, I do not, in fact, think I _can_."

Danny Hebert's body visibly relaxed, having tensed at hearing the sheer amount of jail time his daughter was facing.

"And that's ignoring the political repercussions of attempting to do so. You are a symbol of this city now, for better or worse."

Preening, Elizabeth visibly swelled at the indirect praise of her skills. After all, it wasn't very often the same person got puff pieces on CNN _and_ Fox News at the same time.

"However-" His tone turned heavily. "With all that in mind, you did commit many, many crimes. You injured good men and women, several of whom require therapy for trauma endured at your hands. Furthermore, several people were maimed by you during your rescue of the Alcott family. While you are shielded by good samaritan laws in part, the clear use of excessive force does require me to weigh them against the good done by your intervention."

Once again the dockworker tensed up. The twenty other men and women sitting behind him, all of whom were hard working, blue collar people whose lives and livelihoods had been saved by Taylor, tensed up just the same as their leader did.

"Ignoring barely veiled threats." Ridgewood's eyes turned flinty and fierce, cutting straight through the dockworkers and cowing some of them into submission with the sheer force of his will alone. "And open bribes." This time his eyes flickered to a mayoral aide, who simply gave the old judge an indulgent smile. "I must insist on some kind of punishment. Something must be paid in recompense."

Nodding, the slime girl braced herself.

"So I ask you, Ms. Hebert, what do _you_ want?"

'Isn't that the million dollar question?'

Glancing at her father, she saw the worry and fear in his eyes.

Glancing at Lizzy, she saw the flickers of anger in her otherwise stolid gaze.

In the end, Taylor looked up. At the cracked plaster of the ceiling, rivulets of water seeping through and dripping down the damaged roof. A mixed slurry of white powder and ash choked rain mixing to form a tainted slurry. Something indescribable twisted in her guts.

"I suppose I don't really know."

No one spoke for a long, long while. Giving the teenaged girl a chance to order her thoughts.

"I guess I want to go back. To how things were before I became like this. But… that… isn't healthy. It's not something I'm proud of. Having killed a man." She didn't mean Lung. He was a monster, something she was glad she stopped. Hookwolf, though, had died in agony when he'd already been beaten. Confessing to that had been the first thing she did when she was taken back into custody.

The weight of her actions hadn't really hit her until after she was back in custody. The idea, no, the fact that she had crushed another person to death in her rampage. Fueled by desperation and the need to act, she had done something she never thought herself capable of, only to realize she was good at it.

And how easy it had been.

It wasn't right. Just like it wasn't right that she was arrested for snapping at Sophia. Just like it wasn't fair that Paige had been railroaded to the Birdcage to satisfy someone's itchy trigger finger.

But… she wasn't like them. She wasn't going to pretend her justifying it somehow made what she did any less terrible. She wasn't like them.

She wasn't like Sophia.

So while she would have wanted to pretend things never happened and gone back to living a normal life with her father, there was no going back. For any of them.

If she had to be punished, so be it.

"But I suppose I still want three things."

Taylor clenched her fists.

"I want to spend time with my daddy. A lot of time, if I can. Going to prison scares me."

This time her body rippled again, distorting the clothes she'd done her best not to just eat during her very short trial.

"I don't want Paige to go to the Birdcage. She didn't mean what she did and it was an accident even if he didn't kill himself. People just wanted her gone because she was afraid. Letting her be executed for that is something I won't, _can't_ abide."

Now she looked up.

"Because I want to be a hero. And even if that's impossible, I still want to try. And heroes don't let innocent people die."

In that crumbling courtroom, sagging in a crumbling city, wind howled just outside those rain damaged walls two people sat. One an old man carrying the weight of Justice. The other a young woman who challenged everything he knew of it.

His lips parted and he pronounced his judgement.

Emma Barnes was many things.

She was, of course, a hero.

She was a friend.

But above all else, she was… conflicted.

In the end, Emma was… confused? Scared? Angry? Still a bit hurt, she supposed. But when she really thought about it, all that did was make her feel like shit for being so happy. Because, yeah, she was _happy_. Odd, of course, considering what she'd been through.

Even with context, it didn't make much sense.

After all, Taylot had put her in the infirmary twice. Had beaten up her friends, twice, had wrecked her workplace, had smashed the Rig. And she still felt a flutter in her stomach whenever she saw her friend.

Not of arousal or anything like that. She loved her best friend, obviously. But platonically. No… that strange burst of emotion, the deep sense of something being _right_ was born of relief.

Of the knowledge that her fuck up, that had put Taylor in this position almost two months ago now, didn't end up being permanent.

Because, yeah, Hebert was a pink blob of slime, had a criminal record a mile long, was officially a Ward, and was probably the most feared woman on the East Coast. But she wasn't dead, she wasn't in the Birdcage, and no one Emma had cared about was actually dead. Challenger was a tragedy, yeah, but the woman wasn't exactly easy to get along with and that had been the only person she _knew_ that had died.

'Rationalization at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.'

When Taylor had saved Armsmaster and Miss Militia, she had bought a lot of good will with the Protectorate. If only because Amy had been able to cure the immense damage caused to their bodies and Taylor had made that possible.

Two veteran heroes, at the end of the day, were worth more than a team of punks. Especially when weighing life to life.

'Not like anyone expects us to be a team, though.'

After the final bombs had been dropped, Protectorate ENE had been gutted. And not just literally. Lung had won them a bit of fame, but the fact that Sophia Hess had been outed as Shadow Stalker, was proved to have committed a number of homicides, and was captured on video torturing a girl into triggering meant their two defeats at Taylor's hands turned into a nationwide case of karma.

The new Director Tagg being a hardass who thought "barely veiled threats" were an intelligent way to motivate teenagers didn't help anything either.

No one but her spoke to the slime girl, the rest of the team being too scared to do more than politely greet her and move along. The older heroes were better, Hana in particular put in the extra effort to get along with their newest recruit. And the rest of the team simply accepted that Flask was basically a god now.

Speaking of Flask, the redhead, in a PRT uniform but not bothering with her costume, watched her friend munch on an oddly shaped chunk of concrete. She had been outed as a consequence of her out of school association with Sophia Hess, not that she particularly cared, and her family had been prepared for this.

'Dad is still kind of a pussy, but Mom at least took my advice and takes Anne to a shooting range nowadays.'

She was a bit conflicted about her father. He was a nice guy and all, but Alan Barnes simply didn't have an angry bone in his body. Sure, he wouldn't just standby and let something happen and he wouldn't let someone walk over him, but the man just couldn't take the initiative if violence was involved.

The Asunder Incident, simply called the Incident by the media, had been an eye opener of sorts for Brockton Bay. The fact they'd been one bad decision away from being quarantined was bad enough, but the fact that so much death and destruction had been caused was enough to drive even the most apathetic citizen to take notice.

Buildings on fire.

Entire streets collapsed.

The Boardwalk destroyed by Nazis and freaking _Pokemon_ of all things!

Everyone was looking for a scapegoat, someone to push the blame on and act as if they weren't part of what led to the disaster. The Undersiders, the first wave of chaos to hit the city, had gone to ground after the night was over, unable to be found no matter how hard people tried to find them.

Coil had simply disappeared. No one knew where he'd gone. Only that his mercs had packed up shop and left. Some minor gang, a splinter of the Crips or something, had set up in his old territory. Apparently, some people wanted him back.

There was Uber and Leet. They'd argued self defense and had been cleared of all charges. Saving that many people kind of bought them enough of a cult following that no one actually wanted to bother _really_ prosecuting them.

Who knew that beating up Nazis was a popular activity?

Speaking of Nazis, the E88 seemed hellbent on denying any and all involvement with the mess. Claiming to be the wronged parties who tried to stop the ABB and Lung from getting out of hand.

Whatever they meant by that.

The city was still undergoing renewal, so the group hadn't been very active. No need to try and force a fight when everyone was still licking their wounds.

Not when the national guard was still occupying half the city after all.

Though there had been some minor positive changes. The Merchants were gone, basically dead to the last. Most of those that hadn't ended up lynched or arrested or slaughtered by the ABB had left town. And those that hadn't wouldn't dare wear colors anymore.

People didn't mention the ABB much. Not that it was taboo. Just that they didn't bother speaking about them anymore. The gang was dead. People who had tats got them removed or covered them, _no one_ flew colors anymore, and more than once the police had been called after a few known associates had been… punished. Corpses didn't get off with a slap on the wrist, after all.

Taylor, though, kind of had.

It was a bribe, obviously. She and Canary, Paige to Emma now, had been promised a speedy trial and a retrial respectively.

Paige had pleaded guilty to third degree manslaughter, was doing six months, and would then be pardoned by the governor once she was out. There was talk of Canary joining the Protectorate too. Emma wholeheartedly approved.

'At best she got shafted by the system. More than that she got fucked by a psycho boyfriend.'

Diamond Dust had literally giggled when the Mayor gave Taylor the key to the city.

Oh, sure, she'd plead guilty to more than two thousand counts of assault, battery, vandalism, grand theft, trespassing, resisting arrest, violation of dozens of municipal ordinances, and worse… but her cases had been totally political.

She had killed Lung, even if Flask insisted Dragon get most of the credit, taken down the Wards twice, and none of the heroes could do anything if she wanted to just walk away.

"Emma?"

In a show of goodwill, Taylor had _cooperated_ with them, the judge that handled her case, in a full criminal indictment, had quite simply asked if she intended to be a villain.

The blob of slime rolling on the courtroom floor said no.

He thanked her for her time.

"Emma."

Now she had two thousand hours of community service, six months of probation, and a permanent parahuman babysitter. The national campaign that supported her as a martyr for abuse by the government, independent parahuman rights, racial injustice, gender injustice, and an odd mix of libertarianism and marxist-lenninism calmed down after she made it clear she had no desire to eat another military base.

"Emmmmma…."

That had gotten her a pardon at the end of her sentence, too.

Apparently, widespread civil disobedience was still a concern for most major cities. At least when people perceived the government as being more actively malevolent and less just too stupid to actually do anything.

'Would it be so hard to…'

An ice cold limb touched the back of her neck, making the teenage superheroine nearly jump out of her diamond armored skin. A squeak of surprise escaped her, face coloring in embarrassment as she turned around to pin the dastardly villain with an unimpressed stare.

"Really, Taylor? What are you, a six year old?"

Her slimy companion's answer was to roll around laughing. Form bouncing all over the concrete and debris they had been in charge of cleaning up.

"Sorry, not sorry." The cheeky slime sing sang. "You were going on one of those inner monologues about the government again. I've been trying to talk to you for five whole minutes now!"

"No I wasn't!"

And Emma most certainly didn't stamp her feet in denial either.

"Ok then. It was about how deep and brooding you are. Wait… it was about Sophia, wasn't it?"

Taylor went quiet, calming down, and there was a good reason why.

Sophia Hess had been formally charged with inciting every crime Taylor had been charged with. Plus attempted murder, unlawful confinement, and a host of other things too. When her lawyer had pled that she was not responsible by reason of mental defect, Twitter exploded. But Emma had visited her. Seen her.

It was bad. _Bad_, bad.

"I am now."

Slithering over to her best friend, the bubblegum girl wrapped the taller redhead in a twenty armed hug. Normally, when Emma felt her power slip away, she got jittery. Anxious even. But at that moment she just relaxed into the hug.

"Hey Emms, I know you don't wanna hear this, but I really think you need to see someone for your depression."

The normal teenager just shook her head, not saying anything as she felt her friend around her. For the first time in what felt like years the two of them were talking and hanging out, teasing each other just like before. It was… awkward and at times could feel forced, but Emma couldn't care less.

After all the secrets and sneaking around her friend to protect her identity as a cape, Emma could finally be herself with her best friend. That her friend's circumstances were the only reason they could hang out so openly, which were also partially her fault was something she would rather not dwell in.

They would talk about it later.

'This is enough. Better than enough. This is good.'

As far as Emma was concerned, she had gotten off easy. Regardless of how the Ward's confrontation with Taylor had gone down, she hadn't gotten that hurt. Not that the others thought that way, of course, there was just something frustrating about losing against the same enemy twice.

More so when Taylor had then gone on to fight her way through the chaos of Brockton Bay and directly affected its final outcome while they had to be dug out of the wreckage.

When Flask had come back for her community service, the other Wards had seen fit to make themselves scarce. Something Emma couldn't really hold against them, at least for now. She was frankly too relieved to have her friend back safe and sound, immediately offering to become her… parole officer of sorts.

"Emma… you are doing it again."

The redhead scoffed. "Maybe you should focus less on me and more on eating that debris."

Seriously, cutting into her reminiscing time.

"But I'm done already!"

She blinked.

'Wait… what?'

Indeed. The building her friend had been tasked with… cleaning was no long present. Piles of concrete, brick, soggy wood, and rebar gone as if they hadn't ever been there in the first place. Not even the ruined foundation of the building was left behind! Which explained why her friend looked like a mesh of pink bubblegum, octopus and a mannequin.

As well as the fact she was ten feet tall.

"I would make a joke about hentai but I'm not sure if that would violate my probation or not." Twitching her tendrils, Taylor smiled. "If I was a tentacle monster I'd molest you first."

'God damnit Lisa. Why did you introduce her to anime?'

Emma pinched her nose.

"I'm going to pretend this is you being funny and not sexual harassment." She flicked her phone on. "Ok, it's 15:17, we only have another 43 minutes. That's just enough time to walk to the next site, so let's do that." Sliding her phone back into her pocket, the heroine nodded at a number of construction workers coming in to inspect the site. "You ready to go?"

Screwing up her eyes, the eldritch horror rippled and condensed down into a dark pink girl. Standing about six feet in height, without much in the way of curves, she at least managed an accurate representation of her pre-trigger features. Even her slightly too wide mouth, sitting in a lopsided smile, was where it was supposed to be. As opposed to covering her body in a hundred squealing maws, filled with grinding, razor sharp teeth.

"So, Emms, whaddaya think?"

Taylor's chest wildly ballooned out of proportion, giving her instant EE cups.

"You look like you stuffed balloons down your shirt. Now come on, before I decide to pop them."

Pouting, the slime girl did that. And Emma, somewhat gratefully, took her hand. Because when Taylor got to hold your hand, it meant she was less likely to try to eat the sidewalk.

And that was the big concern. She'd spoken with Danny, the two of them having a somewhat awkward first try at discussing the… changes Taylor had undergone. How she didn't sleep, how she needed to eat constantly, how she acted like, well, a ten year old.

It was the exact opposite of how she had been before.

Introverted, quiet, solitary, incredibly shy, Taylor had had extreme difficulty connecting with others. Now it was like she was a small child, something to do with her lack of a more complex way to process information, or so Armsmaster said. Her attention span had taken a massive hit, her sense of humor had become somewhat puerile, and she seemed to seriously struggle with both impulse control and not being convinced to do things by other people.

Mostly Lisa, the clever bitch, and Elizabeth, that _bitch_.

Lisa thought it was funny to make their technically sexless friend cosplay. Sometimes very suggestive things. The lawyer thought she'd made it big finally and liked to use Taylor like a bludgeon to smash her enemies.

That is, whenever Danny wasn't around.

Emma and Taylor would be hard pressed to stop the two from fighting like cats and dogs when they were under the same roof.

"You know, I am aware that I've changed a lot. It's… easy to just go with the flow now." Emma stopped walking and turned to her friend. "It's so easy to just dissolve and eat and relax." Taylor's fingers began to split into thousands upon thousands of tiny filaments. "But thank you." The slime squeezed her friend's fingers. "For sticking by me. It means a lot."

Her phone went off.

Switching off the alarm on pure reflex, Diamond Dust thought long and hard about what she wanted. In the end she nodded.

"So, work's over for the day and Mr. Hebert isn't gonna be back until late, right?"

"Yup, yup! Daddy's gotten a lot busier since the Union got so many contracts. Even the salvage crews need a lot of new guys vetted and he's making sure no one suspicious gets through."

Emma was glad, even if the two of them weren't in the best of terms right now, the man was still important to her friend.

"So!" She started. "Feel like hitting up Fugly Bob's? I'm feeling peckish and seriously doubt that just a small building was enough to fill you up. Young slimes need at the very least nine hundred pounds of food every day!"

The pink slime's face darkened in embarrassment.

"Emma! Not funny!"

They both shared a laugh, hers at Taylor's blushing pout and Taylor because laughter was infectious.

"Come on. The PRT is buying since this is a working dinner. Let's have some fun."

Walking hand in hand with her friend… things were looking up. Emma Barnes _knew_ this. Now all that was left to do was help the rest of her friends and keep Brockton Bay from backsliding. Nothing too difficult for a superhero, right?

The blob of slime beside her rumbled.

"Hehehehehe…. at least they are paying, right?"

* * *

Life was good for one Elizabeth Beauvoir.

She had just won the biggest case of her career, gotten enough publicity to have her office set for the next two decades and managed to survive what the media considered to be the most horrific parahuman related incident in recent memory.

Which did not include one of the Endbringers, of course.

So, needless to say, she was riding high on the wave of success!

Things simply could not have gone better. Because of course Annette's daughter would be an honest to God martyr! Even after being given an easy out, Taylor had _insisted_ on some form of trial and some form of punishment. And on top of that the judge had admitted, in court, to not knowing how to handle her case.

Thorny issues were always so much easier to twist up than simple ones. After all, if it was black and white then it could be dragged down into partisanship. But if no one could get a clear angle on the answer?

Well, she was already planning her book deal.

"Jane, has CNBC gotten back to us on that interview yet?"

"No mam." The shark heard her PA go through a few notes before returning to the phone. "So far all we have is the spot on Fox at six pm next Monday and a spot on MSNBC at eleven in the morning that Tuesday."

She clicked her teeth.

"Well, we can't seem too eager. Let them come to us. Can we contact any of the activist groups? Maybe get a counter protest against the pastor that declared this a sign of the end times? He called Taylor the whore of Babylon, can we use that?"

"Sorry mam. I spoke to the bosses on that one, they're worried about attracting the attention of the Fallen if we drag that angle up too much."

"Tch. Dickless weaklings." Victory wasn't victory unless it was total. Elizabeth hadn't won until everyone _knew_ she had won. "See what you can do through any of our friends, then, we can't afford to let this die down. Right now we have a chance to become the face of pretty much the entire zeitgeist. At least for a month or two. And with our social media blitz, we've got more than enough material of Taylor hard at work."

Taking a moment to think, the lawyer let her perfectly manicured nails click against her phone case.

"All right. What if we call the Japanese? Gamefreak sponsored Uber and Leet after they took down those Nazis. What if we try and do a photo op? Mention that Taylor's father and her lawyer were both, technically, guests of the two young men."

"Right away boss mam! I'll get it done!"

It was always a risk that her plan could backfire, Lung was the Dragon of _Kyushu_ after all. But most people couldn't name the islands of Japan to save their life, not to mention his mixed heritage was being emphasized in the Japanese media. There was a non zero chance that people would forget that the Japs even worked with the Krauts during World War Two.

"I'd say eighty-twenty odds on this going off without any problems. Not to mention Mr. Lung was killed rather gruesomely. Maybe I can even spin this into some cultural outreach sessions. Didn't Danny mention that Taylor's new friend had gotten her to cosplay some anime character?"

Pulling open her notebook, good old fashioned paper, because it was ironically safer nowadays, the lawyer read through her shorthand.

"Dragonball, anime, Majin Buu, damnit. I'll need to set aside a few hours to research this. Does Taylor even like anime or is this peer pressure? Maybe I could buy her a gift and see if she likes it. Hmm. Did Annette ever mention anything about Japan?"

In the end, it didn't matter. Even if Elizabeth's own prodigal memory failed her, she'd have Jane memorize the entire series. After all, her secretary had been hired for far more than how she filled out her skirt.

"All right. That takes care of public relations, now for the actual paper work."

Milking your clients for all they were worth was fine and dandy so long as you did your actual job. Otherwise you tended to get debarred and sued.

On top of that, she still needed to figure out the quickest way to make Taylor a millionaire. Claiming Lung's bounty, because he _had_, had a kill order put on him, was step one. But taxes always took a bite out of cash rewards like that. And a few million wouldn't last long once Taylor's stomach figured out how much food she could buy with that.

"Before I'm done, I swear your daughter will live like you should have."

Honestly, at first, she had thought she would have been able to stay professional. Do her job, indulge a few fantasies, help out her best friend's kid. That had not lasted long.

Her stomach hurt, guilt biting deep into her guts. The fact she had basically driven Annette away had unquestionably contributed to her death. In the end, she hadn't managed to do anything that Taylor wouldn't have managed on her own. And it was killing her.

Being honest, Elizabeth probably would have already left had this been any other client.

The publicity and possibility of furthering her office's agenda were nice, but they weren't something that needed her direct input. She had people working for her who handled those things, and people who worked for them who handled the small details in order to make her desires come true. Truthfully, the whole debacle at the Boardwalk had been rather draining, something she hadn't experienced before.

Were it not because of Taylor, she would have already packed her bags and left.

The other reason she stayed was… far less voluntary.

Putting her assistant on mute, the lawyer reached for the drawer, yanking it open with all the grace of a moody teenager as she shuffled through her many MANY extra phones. The sort one was required to buy when dealing with multiple clients and informants. Nearly a dozen cheap burner phones.

Finally, she pulled out an utterly average blue phone. No markings or symbols which would hint at its maker.

Swiping it on, the woman felt her stomach knot in anxiety.

'Let's just get this done with.'

She quickly punched in a number from memory, pressing the phone tightly against her ear as it rang ominously.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

It was always three times.

There was a brief bout of static as someone finally answered her call. A muffled, artificial tone grunting from the other end of the line. Still though, smug satisfaction poured through.

"So I take it you've won?"

The voice changer was tinker tech. High grade tinker tech. And expensive enough that not even the PRT could really afford to use it. Of course, this line of work was far more lucrative than government contracting.

"Yes sir." He was the only man in the world she used _sir_ for. "Flask has won the case in the public's eyes and joined the Wards. The rest of the gangs are scattered, Skidmark being killed by a police officer during the arrest and Squealer is currently suffering from a severe concussion. Mush was confirmed killed by Oni Lee, who himself was confirmed killed by Thomas Calvert."

"So all major obstacles have been removed?"

"Yes sir."

"And the status of Boston?"

"Accord hasn't done anything of note, the Butcher has gone to ground, and there's been an increase in non powered gang activity. That's all I, or my firm, knows."

"Maintain observation." The line clicked dead, a small tone playing as the phone reset itself to factory settings.

Elizabeth exhaled in relief, body melding itself against the very comfortable chair she'd purchased earlier that same week. Life in Brockton Bay was not as she had envisioned - circumstances had grown too personal, too fierce and dangerous all too soon. It wasn't what the lawyer expected when she came to defend Annette's daughter.

And now… there was no turning back.

Lung getting killed and the city being gutted had changed the game. Wiped the board of its main players and left a vacuum the likes which hadn't been seen since Butcher's departure and All Father's death. More than that, the PRT had been simultaneously humiliated and turned into a martyr. Cape politics were square in the middle of national headlines again.

Even after the fifteen minutes of fame passed, when Taylor would have been as anonymous as any other parahuman blob of sentient slime, this would be remembered. Because this had been an Endbringer level event _without an Endbringer_.

Normal, everyday capes.

Normal, everyday men and women.

Ragnarok had come and gone, leaving a wounded, reeling city in its wake. A city that was going to try to reform. A city that had all of its ugly little scars torn open and purged.

There was blood in the water.

Soon enough the sharks would come.


	18. Interlude II - PHO

**AN: **Behold our triumphant return! The rebirth of the best slime adventure you will ever find in the Worm fandom as well as the most ludicrous sequence events to ever befall one Taylor Hebert. I speak, of course, of Flask! Brought to you by Wyvern and the Warhawk, and now sponsored by Hetap.

Now, hold your horses. Because we haven't gotten to Arc 2 just yet. Instead, after asking the good people of Spacebattles for some inspiration, we have managed to put together our second ever Interlude. This time a PHO chapter, the kind everyone loves!

**AtW**: This one was a while coming I suppose. But the drive to write and the desire to do anything but play Fallout has just not been there on my part. Thankfully, I have a week or so before Fall semester starts so we're gonna try and get chapter one of Arc 2 out and another chapter for Power Grid before I go back to school Yay. College.

**CW:** It is very important, yes. Just not as much as our writing! Nothing really is. So make sure to read and let us know your thoughts!

**AtW: **As a special note, we'd like to thank all of our readers. Both on and on Spacebattles. Those of you that have read mean a lot to us. Those of you that have offered feedback mean even more. Knowing that we're sharing a little bit of what we enjoy with others is something that is quite pleasing. So thank you. All of you. 

* * *

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**Topic: Asunder Event Megathread**

**In: Boards ► News ► Events ►America**

**JamesJames** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (Verified PRT Agent)

Posted on March 15th, 2010:

So, to be blunt, there are things I can't say and things I shouldn't say. I have been given permission to say more than the bosses want, if only because sweeping what happened under the rug is probably the worst thing we can do right now. That doesn't mean this is an official press release, but it does mean I'm not going to get fired for sharing a few details. So AMA.

My contribution is that I was in the command room when Flask busted out and can share a few clips **here** and **here**. All video/photos are from phones/public domain.

Edit 1: Wow, ok, let me take this bit by bit guys. Slow down!

Edit 2: Didn't expect to be made into a megathread. FAQ link **here**. Please do not send questions through DMs or ask for video/names. Right now this is an ongoing criminal investigation so anything from the PRT's servers would be illegal to upload and Flask is a minor so outing her would be double illegal. I don't care if "everyone already knows", it's a shitty thing to do.

**(Showing page 1 of 421)**

► **XxVoid CowboyxX** (Asunder Witness)

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

first

USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST

► **Dragon532**

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

First!

edit: ninja'd

USER RECEIVED A WARNING FOR THIS POST

(Better luck next time 'waves banhammer innocently')

► **Dragon532**

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

slimegurlop plz nerf

but seriously this is giving me flashbacks to watching the blob as a kid but now the blob is friendly?

► **JamesJames **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

She's not eating people's clothes any more. Hopefully. And her body count is lower than the actual Blob's from the movie. So maybe? Things are not clear on our end at all.

► **Xyloloup **(Brockton Witness)

Replied on March 15th, 2010:  
One of my friends who works maintenance sent me these pics. **Link. Link.** He and some other guys were supposed to see the damage to the sewer lines underground after a couple buildings caved in and found there were a ton of them squeaky clean! Like, brand new clean! Do you know if that was Flask or what?

► **JamesJames **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

I can confirm that Flask did move through the sewer systems. And she seems to have ingested everything larger than a cockroach but smaller than a rat. Make of that what you will.

► **Handyman1300**

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

In all honestly though our sewers have never looked better! I've actually been using those to get around because it's faster than trying to navigate our maze-like utterly destroyed streets.

► **Reave** (Verified PRT Agent) (Brockton Witness)  
Replied on March 15th, 2010:  
Saw Pink Blob while responding to an arson case. Merchants or whatever was left of them decided to go on a spree. Low casualties, but that's still being investigated. Building collapsed with Pink Blob inside, Pink Blob ate its way out of the wreckage. Can't say more than that. Sorry.

► **BigBadBen**

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

So, bubblegum pink tentacles, how old is she? Cause I know a lot of adult actresses who would love to *comment deleted by Moderators. All of them!* Nope. Not happening. Shame. Bad person. Enjoy a 30 day ban. Bye!

USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS INFRACTION

► **JamesJames **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

Flask is a minor. That would be illegal.

► **Did I? **

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

So does she have a distributed intelligence like an octopus with neurons all over, or is she like a jellyfish and doesn't really have a brain?

edit: to all the people commenting saying jellyfish nervous systems actually do possess neuronal condensation and octopuses only have a decentralized nervous system that still requires a brain... I'm here for slime facts not animal facts! ... thanks for the info though still cool to know.

► **JamesJames **(Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on March 15th, 2010:

As far as anyone can tell, she doesn't have a brain. Or what we could call a nervous system. I know Armsmaster was talking about "direct induction of electrons through an unknown medium" and, somehow, that has something to do with her not needing a brain. Only that smaller pieces of her are still her, have their own, limited, intelligence, and will either decay or seek to rejoin the main mass. Please do not attempt to damage any of the smaller masses or further subdivide it.

It's unclear exactly how much of her is, well, in the smaller bits. But she doesn't lose or gain intelligence based on the size of her main body and does not lose either memories or knowledge when she loses mass.

**End of Page. 1, ****2****, ****3**** … ****419****, ****420****, ****421**

Lisa frowned. She was speed reading, skimming through the thread again. There were a few new details. Small little tidbits she could sus out. Most importantly that Taylor was probably not doing her thinking in her body, which meant her brain was, or whatever that was for her, was probably in the same place as wherever her excess mass went to when she compressed herself.

Because, having held the girl herself, that ball of slime weighed _maybe_ two pounds.

'Going to school again is odd.'

She chuckled.

"Well, at least I can actually look at boys when I'm holding a tentacle monster. I wonder what that says about me." Her jokes were definitely in good taste, she assured herself. "But still, who would have thought I'd be playing buddy with Glory Girl and Panacea."

To be fair, that had been kinda sorta part of the plan.

After shit hit the proverbial fan and blew up in everyone's faces, the Undersiders had to go incognito until the city stopped aiming for their heads. A healthy dose of self imposed exile and a couple fake IDs were all she needed to go out and start snooping around again. Had to keep the boss happy, after all.

Which had led her to Arcadia.

All in all, Lisa was satisfied with how things had turned out.

Strangely enough, Coil had changed everything. And very, very quickly.

For one, he'd come through for the Undersiders. Brian had custody of Aisha, Bitch's case was being internally reviewed by the PRT and there was talk of attempting to get her a fair trial, Alec had an entirely new identity as Thomas Ortunson, and she… she had flat out been told she could leave. And that if she had stayed there would be potential rewards she could only come from ruling the city.

One way or another, she got the sense he was going to pull it off.

Not that he wasn't furious. Someone had blue balled him, bad. As if he'd come inches from total victory and then had his feet swept out from him at the last second.

"A pity I still don't have more hard information."

Lisa had been extrapolating from the tone of voice and verbage he had used during their few communications. Suffice to say, anyone who wasn't a Thinker would have believed he was calm, pleased even. She knew someone was going to beg to die before he got over what was bothering him.

Her DMs pinged.

**Private message from HannibaltheThird:**

**HannibaltheThird: **Hey Runs, you ready to get back in the saddle? Some of the boys are getting cocky since you weren't in our last couple of matches.

**RunninginPlace: **Don't worry, I'll be on at eight. Just gotta finish some homework.

**HannibaltheThird: **'Raises eyebrow' You? Having homework that takes more than 30 seconds?

**RunninginPlace: **Work, work kind of homework.

**HannibaltheThird: **Biggest of oofs. Are you at least getting paid over time?

**RunninginPlace: **In this case it's its own reward. Don't worry, I'll be there tonight.

**HannibaltheThird: **Good, I'm ready to finally win a match for once!

The Thinker snorted. Maybe it was blatant cheating, but playing grand strategy games was one of the few areas she could use her power and not go to jail. And since gaming was one of the few industries that actually benefited from having everyone inside all the time, it was probably the one area of tech they could truly say Earth Bet excelled in.

But work came first.

'Does this make me a stalker I wonder?'

She had befriended the hottest newcomer in the cape scene for the sake of learning more about her. But that was more out of curiosity. Lisa's power just plain didn't work on the blob of pink slime, or gave her nonsensical information. In fact, watching from afar would have made things easier considering what Coil had ordered her to do.

But she hadn't.

Because she wanted to meet her. Taylor Hebert. Not just Flask, the cape that saved her and her friends from Hookwolf, but the girl who had broken out of the Rig to save someone else and rampaged through the city to achieve just that.

There was a certain… excitement from getting to know someone without her power giving her a leg up.

Lo and behold, the two of them got along famously.

Her sarcasm washed off the girl's back, Taylor was willing to indulge her random whims, and since the slime had figured out who she was the first time they'd made physical contact there was a bond of trust there. Even if it was slightly creepy that the slime could identify people based on their taste.

**Topic: Flask**

**In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)**

**PeterDinkelie** (Original Poster) (Sanctioned Necromancer) (Verified Brocktonite)

Posted on March 15th, 2010:

So, everything has changed and nothing is the same. Normally that's an exaggeration, a cliche even. But now it really, really is. The city feels… wonky. See **here** and **here** where ABB members openly surrender to National Guard forces. See **here**, **here**, and **here** with estimates on the damage, on the amount of aid and charity coming into the city, and on the official response from the federal government. And, as everyone knows, Flask is now the unquestioned conqueror of the city. The official press release is **here**, a statement from her lawyer **here**, and I, for one, am just glad Flask herself made sure to remind everyone Dragon saved her bubblegum.

**(Showing page 87 of 99)**

► **Did I? **

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

Let me tell you what's illegal. The prices! Since things literally blew up here

everything started flying off the shelves. Though I heard Fugly Bob's finally opened

again. Anyone up for a Dragon Gut Buster?

► **Miss Mercury **(Protectorate Employee)

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

Not a Brockton Bay native, but relief forces have been sent to lend aid to the local

Protectorate until the new Director has settled in. As stated in the press conference

linked above there will be a period of transition until the damage has been properly

assessed.

► **totoswonderland**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

So did we ever get an official explanation on those comments about the city getting walled?

► **Dead_Author**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

totoswonderland 'cuz of the sheer number of new capes. people up top were getting reports of a new ash beast (turns out it was just a kiddo stuck in a fire) plus the ABB and E88 both got new triggers. Rumors on the abb cape is a knock off of Oni Lee and is a mover. Empire maybe got a blaster that got blasted by a **beat cop**. Rumors abound of some kind of winged flier with razor feathers though. video **here**, **here**, and **here**. That, plus the Walk Hard, Skinner Box, and (maybe, don't know if we're supposed to talk about her) Ifrit and all the other crap meant we maybe had a "villain proliferation" situation like that town out west.

► **Doubletroubletrouble**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

Dead_Author So we should have just closed the city off because of a few new villains? We already had like two dozen!

► **Dead_Author**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

Doubletroubletrouble Nah, nah. They were afraid it would happen even more. Like with Gary or Gallup. Since Lung was there too they didn't really know what to do.

► **Ravenwood**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

Not like it matters anymore. Did you guys see Flask cleaning out that building earlier?

Link **here**. You can see solid concrete and rebar melting inside her like nothing. So

unless someone got anti-slime powers, we can just chuck slime girl at them and its

solved.

► **RIPDimebagD**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

So, uh, I heard that the bits of her (is it a her? does she use female pronouns? is Flask even human?) break down when they get exploded off. The bigger the piece the faster it decays. Is it poisonous? Did she get into the groundwater? Are we eating tiny bits of her?

Edit: Sorry guys, not trying to spread panic or nothing. Just worried about health concerns since I actually drink tap water (yes, yes I know it's old fashioned).

► **Clockblocker** (Verified Cape)

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

I can answer that! Well, not really since the specifics are all fuzzy and hard to type! But the gist of it is that Flask's little bits break down completely if they aren't on her. Believe me, I got a facefull of the stuff myself. They apparently self destruct completely unless suspended in a strong base (according to the Boss) and reduce themselves to a chemically neutral, non toxic substance. And, on a personal note, the worst thing that happened to me since she plugged up a hole in my gut with her arm, was that I had to use the bathroom a lot.

All in all, morphine from my appendectomy hurt more on the way out.

Though, apparently, there is some concern about what would happen if she just started eating everything so command asked her not to eat anything she isn't approved to do so. She did say she would behave though, so no worries!

► **Jdizzles**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

slimegurlop plz nerf

but seriously this is giving me flashbacks to watching the blob as a kid but now the blob is friendly?

**End of Page. 1, ****2**** … 87, ****88**** … ****98****, ****99**

"Friendly indeed."

"What was that?"

Brian walked in, wearing nothing both a sweat stained wife beater and a pair of gym shorts as he panted and gasped. Tossing him a water bottle, Lisa waved him off.

"Nothing. Just reading. And go take a shower. I know you like working out but I don't like having to smell it."

The dark skinned adonis chuckled.

"Aye aye ma'am."

Alec stumbled into the living room as well, barely able to put one foot in front of another, before he flopped face down on the carpet.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck."

Everyone ignored his groan of complaint except for Aisha. Who promptly chose that moment to sit down on his back.

"You know, for a pretty boy you did ok keeping up with my brother out there. He only lapped you three times. Progress."

Alec simply whimpered.

Rolling her eyes fondly, Lisa Wilbourn, the girl once known as Sarah Livesey, ignored her teammates. Things had changed for them too.

For starters, they were living in the penthouse of a mostly empty hotel Coil had blackmailed the owner of into letting his mercenaries and their family stay in free of charge. Since so much damage was caused during the fight more than a few people were left homeless and the super villain hadn't wanted to leave his men out in the cold.

'If only because it would make them more susceptible to bribery.'

On top of that, the Undersiders got the Penthouse all to themselves. Being capes did have its perks. Occasionally. When the PTSD wasn't giving you crippling nightmares.

Hilariously, the fact that the hotel had been converted into a refugee center had given them quite the degree of invisibility. The two hundred odd rooms were stuffed to the gills with people, more than a few who were shady, and Coil's men had kept the peace. Of course, the Undersiders couldn't exactly appear in costume _at_ the Hotel California, but the fact they'd roughed up a group of Empire scouts sent in to check up on the place sent a message.

'A few months ago I would have been touching cloth at the thought of the Empire's retaliation, but now….'

Lisa tried to care. Tried to get that shrivelled, vestigial thing that was self preservation instinct to tigger. In the end she felt smugness. Which, while confusing, was familiar enough she didn't dwell on it.

Mostly because the Empire was a pale, pale shadow of what it had once been. With Hookwolf dead and Cricket in lockup, they lost a good chunk of their firepower. On top of that they'd been _humiliated_ by Uber and Leet, who were now currently in Japan of all places and working for Gamefreak as brand ambassadors, and this was all right after Purity had defected.

Most importantly, she defected "publically" for a second time and took Fog, Night, and Rune with her. She'd also been the one to bust Crusader and Krieg out of prison. Crusader, allegedly because they were sleeping together, something Lisa's powers told her was unlikely but possible, and Krieg to send a message.

'A power play. Kaiser made a big show of trying to fight Lung, but in the end all his publicity was stolen by Flask, Dragon, and Challenger.' She bit her lip for a moment, just letting her thoughts drift. 'Civil war in the Empire… possible? Purity broke limbs but didn't kill cops, still thinks of herself as doing the right thing, trying to make it a point that she's… not….'

"Gah!" Her headache flared and Lisa let the trail of thought slip away. "I've been doing that too much." And she really had. Her headaches were near constant from her using her power to stay on top of the city. The only relief she got was when she went to Arcadia, something arranged by her boss, and let Taylor touch her.

Apparently, temporarily not being a Thinker meant you didn't get Thinker headaches.

Having the most powerful cape in town on speed dial also meant she was one call away whenever Lisa needed it. That did wonders for her peace of mind. Because there was no way the Empire was getting one mile near the girl that had used Hookwolf as a toothpick. She didn't need her powers to know Kaiser would be staying away for now.

'Sure, he'll make a move. Eventually. But that's in the future. And I have a feeling his plan will try and be subtle, what with her being a Ward.'

**Topic: Flask (Casual Thread)**

**In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)**

►**Justanothercapewatcher **(Verified VS. forum goer)

Posted On March 5th, 2010:

SO, we have short bits of video of the Bubblegum Girl. **Here**, **here **and **here**. And may I first say I've sworn off chewing **Hubble Bubble** forever? Because I do not want to find her chewing on me like she did Hookwolf. (**Link**) Warning: Link is so very NSFW.

So, Does anyone have any idea what her powers are, besides the obvious? She's either a D&D Ooze or slime, or the blob. Personally, I'm hoping for a D&D style monster, because the blob was disturbing. **Here **we have video of her eating a building for community service. Diamond Dust seems to be on good terms with her, given their interactions, so Flask can't be that bad, right? (I mean, let's be serious here, other than the other gang members, is anyone going to miss Hookwolf and Lung?)

Ramblings aside, Asunder saw the practical end of every cape gang in the city except Coil, and he moved out.(Which earns him an award for smartest villain in Brockton Bay.) With Flask in the wards, can we actually get ahead of the gangs for the first time since All Father moved to town?

Or will other gangs try to move in? I mean, moving into the town where you might have to face off with Flask seems to be the very definition of Idiocy to me but I'm not a caped villain either. They seem to do remarkably stupid things on a regular basis.

Time will tell I guess.

**(Showing page 102 of 102)**

► **HoneyBadger (PRT Wife)**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

Weirdest day ever for me and my husband. And not for the reason you might think.

How many times do you get a call from work about getting a fresh change of clothes because a slime ate the first?

► **OrdinaryOnigiri**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

So wait, she ATE Hookwolf? I thought that was just a rumor!

...Does she get enough iron in her diet? That's a really large supplement for her age.

► **R3D4K73D**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

Rumors of a sponsorship deal between Hubba-Bubba and Flask?

► **Deus^Ex^Machina**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

I have no idea what chaos has come too Brockton Bay, but I do know it will

change this place for a long while.

► **Did I? **(Content Creator)

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

Stitched together an "oddly satisfying" compilation of Taylor Herbert (AKA Flask, AKA our fair lady of all-consumption) putting in those community service hours! "**HERE**"

I look at those buildings melting and like to imagine I'm seeing Lung dissolve right in front of me. Wish I could have seen it in person.

► **skychan**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

So basically she _can_ go Grey Goo, she just chooses not to? Is that smart? Like, I'm not saying we do anything stupid. But shouldn't we be careful about all this?

► **Thomas the Dank Engine**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

skychan If she goes Grey Goo we still have Eidolon and stuff like Ashbeast and Behemoth that could/would/might stop her (if only because they butt heads). Tbh, she worries me less than Bonesaw or Nilbog releasing a zombie plague or the Sleeper doing whatever he does.

On a personal note, I wonder if she'd be up for cleaning up landfills? Or maybe just stuff like oil spills or industrial pollutants. Can she filter heavy metals out of water or neutralize radioactive materials?

► **White Fairy **(Veteran Member) (Brockton Bay)

Replied on March 17th, 2010:  
Isn't that just helping her go Grey Goo? Also, I'm pretty sure there are half a dozen laws against feeding toxic materials to a person. Pink Slime or not we. If she wants to do it, great. But we can't just assume she will.

► **Handyman1300**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

She did clean the sewers though. Think she might do it again if we pay? Call me radical but that's one piece of service I wouldn't mind automating.

► **Red Riot Running**

Replied on March 17th, 2010:

So everyone is just ok with some random kid deciding to maim and kill people? Yes, Lung was an ass. Yes, Hookwolf had it coming. But she was crippling some of the other gang bangers she fought. And if no one remembers, let me remind you of the fact she's beaten the Wards _twice_. This is a hurt little girl with the powers of a monster.

Who's gonna stop her if she decides she doesn't wanna play ball?

**End of Page. 1 … ****98****, ****99****, ****100****, ****101****, 102**

Frowning, Lisa typed up a quick response and fired it off in less than fifteen seconds.

Unfortunately, people were starting to get divided again. About forty percent of commenters thought she was the greatest thing since Hero, forty percent thought she was new parahuman with cool powers and a lot of muscle, but the last ten percent or so were conspiracy theorists and doom mongers.

Some of which raised pretty good points, some of which fell into the general line of anti parahuman thinking, and some of which were probably just trolls or shitposters.

From what she could tell, most people were ultimately buying the official line.

That Flask triggered during an event related to serious bullying, no names were released, that she suffered a psychotic break as a result of the event, was taken into and voluntarily remained in Protectorate custody up until, as a result of her mental trauma, she explosively escaped. Mostly, it was the lack of deaths that meant her escape was _officially_ not being made an issue of.

Social media was awash with a few theories, up to and including a semi serious rumor that the girl to shove Taylor into a locker filled with rotting human waste was a Ward, but the only proof out there was a video that was less and less available as the various sites took it down.

'I suppose Liveleak held out as long as it could, but no one really wants the Feds breathing down their neck.'

But there was a core of hardened resistance to any new, powerful cape. And the literally explosive death of Lung didn't help matters much.

The PRT, in response, was trying their damn best in getting the slime girl as much positive exposure as they could to gain the goodwill of the public. Doing volunteer work as part of her probation helped matters, but it was the appearances in events that helped really get people in touch with Flask.

Awkward and somewhat childish as she was, there was something charming about her.

A trueborn cinnamon roll.

Lisa was half tempted to use her power and try to see how much time the PR department had used to prepare the girl's official debut in the parahuman scene. It ought to be the most flashy and expensive coming out party since Scion appeared buck naked for the first time.

"You know what, I bet there's already tentacle porn of those two."

Not that either of them would care. Scion because he didn't seem to be human and Taylor because she'd just blush, splutter, and roll around a bit. Arcadia's environment was conducive to the girl's confidence, but she was still largely passive. More interested in spending time with Amy and Victoria Dallon and their friends than actually studying, but Lisa was relatively sure that Emma Barnes was Diamond Dust.

'Holy crap. She's making herself a harem!'

Snorting in amusement, the Thinker shook her head. So long as she was calm, Hebert was harmless. Literally. She didn't have the willpower to assert herself when she was called upon in class. But there was a very, very good reason she had regular therapy sessions.

It was a sober moment when the slime had confessed she was speaking to someone twice a week for two hours at a time. And that was going to continue indefinitely.

A small reminder of just how violent the birth of a cape could be.

"Well, it's not like she's Moord Nag or Heartbreaker."

But there _was_ one big thing Lisa wasn't sure about. Clicking on a video link, she let the press conference buffer for a few seconds before hitting play.

"As the new head of PRT East North-East I will bring a degree of clarity and transparency that was sorely lacking in the previous administration. While Director Emily Piggot was a strong woman, from a storied background, she was also interested in maintaining the peace."

The forty something man, in full PRT dress uniform, stood at ease with his hands clasped behind his back. There was an almost arrogant glint in his eye, like he was here to prove something. But more worryingly was the fact he stood like a soldier, not a cop.

"My goal will be first and foremost the neutralization of all threats to the public, the public peace, and the protection of property, life, and liberty. No longer will we play games with those who would use violence to rule us. No longer will we permit terrorism in the city of Brockton Bay to go unpunished.

He turned to speak to someone off camera and nodded.

"At this time I will take questions from the press now. Yes, you."

As the polite body of reporters, seemingly somewhat subdued by the presence of the dozen odd armored troopers she caught a glimpse of, stood up, a lady in a blue dress asked her question first.

"Director Tagg. What are your plans to deal with the fallout of the catastrophic events of last month? While dangerous elements like Hookwolf and Lung have been accounted for, there is still concern that others will be able to continue on during this time of uncertainty."

The man offered her a bitter smile, something he must have thought was reassuring but appeared brittle and fake.

"I understand your concerns, but would like to reassure you and those watching that one of our first priorities will be to root out the guilty parties behind those tragic events."

Uh oh.

Lisa didn't like where that was going.

"While it is true that public menaces have been neutralized during the incident, there were still reports of multiple criminal elements which still remain at large. As such allow me to reiterate that those responsible for the events of last month will not escape just."

He shuffled through the papers on his hands.

"As of this moment, the ENE Protectorate will pursue arrest warrants for all groups associated directly or indirectly with the Asunder Incident. Amongst those you will find notable names such as Empire 88 parahumans and members of now defunct gangs. As well as minor entities like the Travelers and the Undersiders. We will leave no stone unturned or corner unchecked. Of that, I assure you, ladies and gentlemen."

Oh.

_Oh_.

That was Coil's leverage.

She knew he had moles inside the PRT and that he was willing to even get the white hats to bump off his competitors if he could keep his hands clean. And now he was going to use the fact that, even if their previous issues were wiped out, they would have an all new list of charges to worry about.

"Well fuck a duck with a rock on a dock."

A quick search later and she had the list of charges Taylor had faced and how the book had been thrown at her.

It was… excessive.

But it also established a pattern. Something like that would have been as political as it was legal. Meaning the Law was going to be dotting its i's and crossing its t's. In turn meaning that she and her little band of rogues could be looking at a _lot_ of jail time.

'Inciting a riot, reckless endangerment, plus the actual crimes we did commit. Well. Shit.'

It wasn't the ludicrous amount of accusations they'd thrown at Flask the first time around, but it was still pretty bad. The only silver lining being that they couldn't get pinned with any deaths _directly_. That would have made things dicey. As in "you're a terrorist" dicey.

Not that it meant anything now.

With the origins of her trigger revealed and her actions during the crisis, Taylor Hebert was the closest thing Brockton Bay had to a genuine hometown hero. It helped that she was the biggest deterrent this side of the hemisphere and had a literal PR machine trying to make her appear as good as possible to everyone.

'Short of eating someone live on television, she is untouchable.' Lisa groused.

And immediately had an idea.

It was true that Coil already had her keep tabs on the slime girl. And that she herself had decided to personally meet and befriend her out of curiosity and gratitude. So what did it matter if she added another layer to their relationship? After all, they were good friends as it stood. By the standards of two warped teenaged girls at least.

Not best friends. Not yet at least.

That title was still being fought over by Emma and Paige Mcabee.

Lisa could only be the best friend she could and hope that it was enough. And when she eventually came under fire from either the PRT's new hardliner of a Director, or Coil's own scheming, Lisa would have someone willing to rampage through the entire city to help her.

Just as she'd done before.

Firing off a quick email to Taylor, asking if she wanted to meet up for coffee later in the week, she exited out of PHO and switched to her preferred gaming client.

After all, she _had_ just purchased an eighty thousand dollar computer rig from Toybox. How else was she supposed to use it other than stalking her friends and reminding scrubs that fist could also be a verb?


	19. Chapter 17

**AN: Get around everyone and witness the beginning of our favorite Slime Girl's newest adventure. Of course, this marks the beginning of Season 2 of Flask. Also known as 'Oh My God she Blew Up a Dragon!' and 'Slime Girl OP, Please Nerf!'.**

**AtW: I'd name the chapter "Nazis get the knife too" but that might be taken as a touch… indulgent.**

**CW: Or maybe… 'The Nazis Did it.'**

**AtW: Either way, we actually wanted to give people something worth fighting for. And sure, school seems a bit odd. But think back to when you graduated highschool and how everything and nothing changed at once. How you suddenly had to pay bills and worry about taxes (assuming you already didn't) and then… it was basically the same rat race. 8-10 hours a day, every day, all week just to keep your head above the water. But here's the odd thing, most of us saw friends, met loved ones, made connections and spent huge portions of our lives in our schools and doing things we often hated. So for better or worse, have a touch of normalcy and a drop of blood. From us to you, hand delivered.**

**CW: Now then, onto the reading!  
**

* * *

**Chapter 17 - Her New Everyday**

* * *

What do you do when the world you knew came to an end?

When the comforts of everyday life became meaningless?

When the certainty of your own mortality reared its ugly head and forced you to stare at it?

Some raged against it in defiance.

Others simply let go. Overwhelmed despair their lives came crashing down around them.

Max Anders had never considered what he would do in a situation like this.

The businessman had always had an inkling that there would be a battle for Brockton Bay. That soon enough there wouldn't be anything keeping the budding powers within from boiling over and spilling into the streets. He'd assumed the fight would come eventually and made peace with the idea of his likely inevitable death - assuming one of his many, many contingencies didn't pull him out in time.

However, it never occurred to him that he would survive to see the results.

Or the shame that soon followed.

Once Othalla's invulnerability ran out, and he was isolated from any kind of support, Kaiser meant to go out as a martyr for his cause. Raging against the unfair world for the sake of the chosen few. Or at the least dying in a way that wouldn't shame his father and sister. He wouldn't have been able to handle it if they'd been able to gloat.

So he refused to whimper as reality closed in around his neck like a noose.

Max Anders, however, was not Kaiser.

Not completely.

There were always two sides to a coin. The villain to the hero. The monster to the knight. The saint to the sinner.

The man behind the armor.

A man who nearly lost his life and woke up to a vastly different reality. Where a much greater monster roamed the streets. One who'd vanquished his own sworn foe. Denying him the glory of victor and the honor of death.

'Does it even matter? Did anything ever matter?' He grunted, finishing inside of Jessica, Nessa pressing her chest into his face. Normally, that would be enough to keep him interested long enough to recover for a second round or three. Instead, he simply sighed and pulled out.

Clean up was a boring affair, instead of the fun indulgence it normally turned into, and he dismissed his concubines with a wave of his hand.

"You've got the shower first."

Normally, he joined them.

Instead he simply sat there, rubbing his face and pushing the sweaty locks of hair out of his eyes.

"Gods. What am I doing."

For the first time in years he had a beard.

'Well, more like scruff.'

It wasn't thick enough to be a beard. And it had only been a couple of weeks. But his blonde hair was getting shaggy and his face wasn't clean. Fumbling around on the nightstand, he grabbed a bottle of five hundred dollar whiskey and took a pull. The burn centered him even as the alcohol dimmed the hangover he knew would be forming soon enough.

As he sat there, drinking, his gaze inevitably returned to his costume. Or at least the undersuit. He always custom made what he fought in, but having a padded jumpsuit helped avoid chafing. And now there was a giant fucking gash in the chest.

"Chink bastard. Popped like the zit he was."

Lung had stepped on him, something he survived by creating a wall of blades.

Kaiser had rallied, slashing open a chunk of the dragon's lower legs and roaring in triumph when his men slammed into the beast and knocked him back.

And then the giant had taken to the skies.

Only for a moment, of course, but it had come rocketing down towards them. It's split maw billowing a wall of fire and scorching everything in its wake. He hadn't even been hit head on. The thing's tail had clipped him and punched straight through his chest plate. And if it hadn't been for Othalla, he'd have died from internal bleeding just a few minutes later.

After that, he was told, the PRT's forces arrived to break up the fight. Allowing him and his cohorts to retreat while Lung continued on his rampage.

Shameful. Utterly shameful.

Though he knew defeat and death were always a possibility on the field of battle, there was a difference between going down dying fighting and living by luck. The former implied valor and courage in the face of despair.

The latter… spoke of cowardice. Of weakness.

Anders didn't think he was a coward. Didn't think he was _weak_.

He took another pull on the bottle.

Once his women were gone, he walked into the ensuite bathroom of his penthouse. Running his hand across the mirror, Max cleared away the steam. What greeted him was a man wounded. Searching his gaze, he saw the flicker of fear in there. Of what he felt when that alien beast screamed out for his blood and flesh and the only thing he could do was try to survive. The bags around his eyes told the story of his nightmares.

"I have to meet with James and his people today. Fuck." She slammed his fist into the marble top of his sink, not even wincing when the skin on his knuckles tore and he began bleeding. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He took a deep breath. "Ok. I know what to do."

His plan was simple. He needed to get dressed. That would make him feel more human, if nothing else.

Rinsing his face in hot water, so hot his skin reddened at its touch, he dried it and smeared shaving cream over his cheeks. Nessa had spent about ten minutes playing with his moustache earlier. And if it amused his women, he could at least keep _that_.

"I wonder."

Purity - Kayden, his ex wife - had almost always been a trophy. An object of lust. He'd thought about calling her. Just to hear her voice. If he had been a man given to more introspection, he might have wondered what that meant. Instead, Kaiser, the mask which he had so carefully cultivated, told him that it would pass soon enough. So he shaved and showered and pulled on a moderately decent suit.

Walking over to his jumpsuit, he once more ran a finger over the jagged slash torn in it.

"Maybe something a bit tougher is in order."

Letting his thoughts wander, he couldn't help but feel an odd mixture of appreciation of things. His Empire was weakened, truly, but Medhall was doing better than ever. Having entrenched the corporation in dozens of outlets, retailers, and distributors - and then leveraged E88 assets against his competitors - he'd turned them into _the_ dominant pharmaceutical company in the North East. Not even the major companies in Boston could compete with him.

Nodding to a secretary, shaking hands with a project leader, clapping the shoulder of an intern he felt a flicker of pride. Even if the streets were currently being patrolled by guardsmen and the police were coming down like a hammer, it would pass. The civilians would get tired of soldiers on their streets and government interference that never ended.

And then he'd be there.

Hookwolf's death had been a wake up call, he decided. A sign of the changing times. And it meant he needed to revive legacies long dead. The March had ruled with an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove and he'd played at that.

But with the degenerates and the asians to distract the Bay he'd never actually had to instill the discipline he should have.

"Not a purge, of course."

Murmuring to himself, he mentally ticked off the power players that would need to be shifted. Who needed to be bribed, who needed to be blackmailed, who needed to simply be removed.

It was a rather long list, all told.

"James, good to see you."

Pushing open to the door of his conference room, he almost hesitated when he saw the three men standing in there. Fleischer - Krieg - he recognized. But the other two were total unknowns. Not at all the normal people from Gesellschaft he dealt with.

"Max." His eyes were cold. Unfeeling. Disconnected. All of a sudden, the would be emperor felt his cheek twitch. "Whatever you do, just tell them yes. It'll be better for everyone if you do."

His grip grew tight. Almost crushing. For a second, Kaiser considered simply exploding. Reducing the three _invaders_ to so much red paste it would take his personnel months to clean off. Then Max calmed down and reminded his uglier half that he had no idea what he was up against.

"Herr Anders. You have a fine business here. Truly, you have grown your roots deep and strong. As an aryan should." The german didn't extend his hand. Didn't bother even moving. "But you also have recently enjoyed an, ah, setback?"

Tall, heavy set, with jowls that looked more like they belonged on a dog than a man. He was mostly bald but had thick, bushy sideburns and a mustache connected to them.

"Unfortunately. But the Empire stands strong. We're simply in a period of transition."

Even if it had been a lie, it would have come easy to his lips. Instead, with the resolve in his heart growing harder it was the truth. Thankfully, his tone remained polite if a bit uninterested.

"I don't believe we've met before, sir?"

"My name does not matter. My compatriot is Handlager. And the organization we both know I represent is very disappointed in you."

Ire peaking, at James for springing this on him and at the kraut bastards for thinking they could issue orders to him in _his damn building_, he barely smothered the glare steadily building in his eyes.

"While there have been setbacks, the Empire has already begun rebounding. An operation is set to begin tomorrow morning in handing out relief supplies to families still without power and water. Since FEMA and the charities have largely moved on, and our initial surge in response has faltered, we're going to step up and fill that void. Remind the city what we truly represent."

Again, he was pulling this out of his ass, something James didn't call him on, but he meant it. It was time for his city to learn that he actually cared enough to do the jobs others wouldn't.

"Wonderful Herr Anders. We'll permit you to oversee this little public outreach project of yours. Though we will, unfortunately, be needing to establish certain guidelines."

Nodding his head, Kaiser smiled at the two foreign men while Max wanted to tell them to get the fuck out of his city.

"I am willing to take your suggestions under advisement and-"

"No. I do not think you understand." Smiling, the german displayed a mouthful of tiny, razor sharp incisors. "I will be replacing Herr Fleischer, who will return to London, as your primary contact with the Organization. You may refer to me as 'Dogsbody'. And to that extent, I have many, many goals you will be required to meet."

Man and cape were in agreement.

"No."

The german smiled and Anders finally got a good look at the other man with them, something that should have sent alarm bells ringing in his head but simply didn't register until now.

"I am afraid you simply have no choice."

Buried three inches into his gut, Kaiser tried to launch a blade just as sharp and as jagged as the one currently inside him right back at the bastard stabbing him.

He couldn't do it.

Shards of metal exploded _around_ Handlager, but nothing that so much as nicked the man.

And now that Max thought about it, he didn't even really know why he thought the individual _was_ a man. Or even what they looked like. Try as he might, he could neither strike the person who rapidly buried a knife in his gut six more times nor could he actually determine any details about them.

"Fuck!"

His hand, which had only stopped bleeding just a while ago, was covered in his fluids again. Holding it over the worst of the stab wounds he tried to lash out indiscriminately, then at James and Dogsbody and everything he could see.

And nothing happened.

Catching himself on the edge of the table before he fell, he grunted in pain but did not cry out. Instead, he glared at the two men in the room that he could focus on.

"Sorry how it turned out Max."

Krieg didn't actually look all that torn up as he stood there, dispassionately, and watched his former boss, and once friend, bleed out.

"You see now, Herr Anders? Handlager is a very useful tool. And I, too, have certain abilities that are very effective at controlling unruly masses. Fleischer, go get the healer woman. Have her patch up our friend here. And then we will discuss the down payment on your debts. Twenty percent of Medhall Industries should suffice."

Swallowing, he refused to fall over. He refused to show weakness. Fear was raging in his gut, his heart was thundering in his chest, blood was pumping in and out of the holes in his gut. And he felt it all.

"I'll remember this."

He forced it out through clenched teeth.

Rage, pure and simple, was filling him. Rage and hate and _loathing_ was washing away everything else.

"Hah. If you say so Herr Anders. I look forward to you trying to push us out. Maybe if you manage it, you'd be strong enough to not be wasting our time."

Metal ground against metal and if it were not for the force stopping him, three of the four people in this room would be dead.

But all he could do was snarl and bleed. 

* * *

Taylor didn't need to sleep anymore.

Strange, isn't it? That the first noticeable change about her new life was the fact she now had more hours than she knew what to do with. For once, time was on her side and the teenage girl turned slime didn't know what to make of it.

Being fair, nothing was quite as it had been.

Couldn't be.

She wondered if this was how inmates who left prison felt. This strangeness of the outside world. As if something had changed in a fundamental way and they no longer fit in as pieces of a neat puzzle.

Life had changed. Brockton Bay had changed.

And most importantly, Taylor Hebert had changed.

How could she not? The past few months had been nothing short of surreal, memories playing out in her mind's eye felt more like a Hollywood popcorn flick than anything else she could think of.

She'd gained super powers. Fought the Wards. Been arrested.

Befriended a fellow inmate.

Escaped jail to save her friend, all the while fighting her way through hero and villain alike.

She was a guaranteed highlight of the year, her lawyer assured her. Everyone knew her name. Everyone knew what she had done. And of course, everyone knew what she had gotten away with.

Though killing two of the most dangerous criminals on this side of the country certainly helped improve her image. Most importantly, if she had to read another online essay at PHO trying to point out the similarities between her and the blob, she was gonna find a way to eat the internet out of spite.

'I better come up with a new name before PR decides to go with something ridiculous.'

Looking over her reflection on the mirror, Taylor hummed in thought.

The arcadia uniform she was given was perhaps a tab off in terms of measurements. Not that it would matter. The cream colored sleeves felt baggy around her arms and the skirt seemed to be a tad longer than necessary.

Clearly meant for someone bigger and more… filled out than she had been.

It was a quick fix. Simple shifting of mass as she decompressed ever so slightly. A neat trick Taylor learned while helping clean up wreckages.

It felt nostalgic. Being shaped like a human again, that is.

Like finding a lost shirt that somehow still fit.

A few months had passed since her rampage through Brockton Bay. She hadn't given the news about it much though. Of course, they gave the event a marketable name and everyone and their mother seemed to think it was some sort of omen for things to come. Last time she looked, people were still discussing whether she classified as an Endbringer or just a really scary girl.

She'd take the latter, thank you very much.

Perhaps, she was a little happy she could be as busty as she wanted or have the curves she'd lacked when she was human. But now that she could have whatever she wanted… she just wanted to look like she had.

Too wide mouth and all.

Glaring at her hand, she managed to create a patch of almost skin like material before she lost control over the transformation. Grunting in frustration, she simply walked, yes, walked, not slithered, over to her book bag and threw it over one shoulder. A final glance showed an almost human schoolgirl in an almost trendy uniform with an almost new bag. It was actually comforting.

"Lizzy really did get those settlements quick. I'm not totally sure I actually like that, to be honest."

Nobody liked to be sued, after all.

And from what she'd heard of Lizzy from her dad, the woman was quite the shark when it came down to negotiations.

"But at least we got the house fixed up."

Running her fingers over the new paint job, she marvelled at how much effort her father had poured into where they lived. The creaky step was fixed, the carpets were cleaned and then, after that failed, replaced. Their wiring was fixed, their walls repainted, their roof reshingled, and after pouring his blood and sweat into it, the whole place looked twenty years younger.

It still felt like home, though.

"New, but old. Is that even possible?"

There was a picture of their family in the hallway now. Her, Dad, and Mom,

"Still miss you."

Taylor was maybe ten in the picture. Small, tiny even. And she was half hiding behind her parents. But they were all smiling, Dad's small quirk of the lips as he tried not to chuckle at his daughter and Mom's eyes almost sparkling in pure indulgence of her child and husband.

She wondered what her mom would have thought. About everything.

Could things have happened differently if she were still around?

Possible. But if she chose to indulge in what ifs now, she would might as well stay home.

Things change. The last few months had proved it. People changed in more ways than one. Taylor herself was the literal proof of it. But that didn't mean the way she felt about them should change. Even if she looked like she was made of pink jello now. The Taylor of today was still that girl in the photo.

The one who just wanted to make her parents proud.

And she still planned on doing it.

"Morning, kiddo!" She smiled at her dad as he walked over. "You want me to drop you off or would you rather take the bus?"

He tried to ruffle her hair, Taylor's pink strands of material actually managing to look and feel like the real thing. Though, still, bright pink.

"I'd like that." The slime girl positively beamed with happiness.

Perhaps, the one change she'd appreciated the most was the one between her and her father. The tension that existed between them hadn't completely vanished. Not after everything. But they were talking again, sharing about themselves instead of just making small talk.

They felt like family again.

"Should I come get you later?"

Taylor shook her head.

"Don't think so. I'm gonna go to Emma's. Get things ready with the girls before uncle Alan takes us to the barbecue." He chuckled, nodding.

"So long as you have fun, I suppose it's alright. Do you mind if I stay at work for a little bit longer today? I need to finish some paperwork and I'll probably run late. If you'd rather, I can definitely come by or-"

"It's ok dad." Taylor hugged him, squeezing just tight enough to let him know it was. "I'll see you when I see, alright?"

"Alright."

He squeezed back.

The drive was a bit longer than normal, guardsmen still standing at most intersections and a few roadblocks still up. But, for the most part, the roads were working again. Power and water hadn't quite yet made it back to all of the city, maybe about ten percent of the overall area was without one or the other.

The sewers had never been cleaner, however.

For better or worse, new construction and debris cleaning services had skyrocketed. Like after a hurricane, property values initially fell and then, after a rush of investment, began to rise again.

There had been a number of predatory individuals, looking to make a fast buck off of desperate people, but there had been far, far more people who had come in and done fair business. Even the insurance companies were playing ball, after some prodding by the Feds, and you could see dozens of banners proclaiming renovations or re openings and even a few that simply said "Brockton Bay Strong". Somehow, despite all the horror of that night, good was being born from the hard work of the citizens of the Bay and the charity of those that were willing to help them.

Quite pointedly, the Dockworker's Union was seeing a lot of salvage work. Like, a _lot_ of salvage work. And with the gangs still reeling, it meant honest people were actually able to start getting ahead. Good work, for good people, for good pay. Her dad still came down like a half ton of exploded dragon on any idiots stupid enough to try to cheat the Union or sell them out, of course!

Apparently having the one who exploded said dragon as a daughter would make even the toughest customer more helpful.

Who could have guessed it….

Still, the cars on the streets weren't new. Rubble could still be seen in some alleys, and there were a lot of places that were just gone.

But wasn't that always true?

Whenever anything bad happens, so much can be lost. Whether natural or man made. Whether a freak accident or intentional act of destruction. The point wasn't to dwell on the bad, to drown in nostalgia for the past, but to smile at the good and push forward.

Taylor learned that lesson. Her dad learned that lesson. And now the city was, hopefully, learning that lesson.

And in a big way, too!

As they came around one of the last turns towards the highschool they passed a community center hosting a very particular event. It was a gathering, mostly white people, though there were some asians. And it was in a part of town the E88 used to dominate. Up on stage a huge man was speaking about what he used to believe. What he used to think. But how, at the end of the day, it was pointless. How violence and hate only bred violence and hate.

She knew this because this man was one of the former Empire members to defect after the rather shocking wave of gang violence that had occurred during the Asunder Incident.

Now, working with former Crips and Bloods from New York and Boston, he was brining an anti gang organization to the Bay. Using language people from the Empire, and those few remnants of the ABB and, to a degree, the Merchants, understood, he was pushing hard on a non armed intervention program.

Partnered with a couple NGOs and the Mayor's Office, it was receiving a wash of rosy coverage after the man came on stage with a former ABB member he had once stabbed.

Right now they were pushing for jobs, housing, and education for former criminals - real strong rehabilitation stuff - along with voluntary community service programs. The city was mostly holding its breath but Taylor really, really hoped they succeeded. Because if the gangs could be stopped _before_ they started shooting each other, well, then things really would be on the mend.

She was still thinking when her dad's truck came to a stop, the brakes not squeaking even a little. Glancing up, she smiled and leaned into the hug and didn't even complain when he pressed kiss right on top of her head.

"Go on kiddo. Have fun and stay safe today."

"Yes Daddy!"

She hugged him back and stepped out of the vehicle. There were a few stares and whispers, she'd gotten used to those a long time ago, but the friendly waves still gave her a little pause as she waved back. Thankfully, no one approached her until Emma came over and looped her arm through Taylor's.

"So, I heard we're gonna have a sub for third period but that also means we won't be having the math test until _next_ week." Nodding along, the slime girl allowed her friend to drag her away, simply making noises of agreement when appropriate. "And oh my god, I'm so sorry." Emma paused, Taylor quirking an eyebrow at her. "Hello Taylor, how are you doing today?"

Laughing, despite her desperate attempts not to, Taylor eventually managed to warble out a response.

"G-good girl. It seems you can teach an old dog new tricks!"

"You bitch!" Crying out in faux horror, the redhead lightly punched her friends arm.

"N-no-" Taylor continued, still laughing too hard to get her words out. "I thought you were the dog!"

Emma started giggling too, grabbing her friend by the hand and pulling her along. Totally not plotting on getting back at her. Oh no, oh no. Stopping dead, she leaned in close to a still giggling slime girl and whispered.

"You know what I just remembered?"

Snorting, and finally getting her laughter under control, Taylor shook her head.

"What?"

Smirking, the Ward cocked her hip and tossed her hair.

"What you said about how soft Vicky's boobs where when she hugged you!"

"Nooooooo!"

Still whispering, Taylor wailed in despair.

"You wouldn't darrrrrrrre!"

That was the first thing Lisa, a grinning blonde that had attached herself to Taylor's side when she came to Arcadia, heard as she walked up.

"Oh. Hey guys. Talking about GG's G cups again?"

Emma had the decency to blush.

"How do you always know _everything_!"

Giggling at the pouting redhead, and looping her arm through their shared friend's free arm, she waggled her fingers.

"I'm a psychic."

"Bull. You still guess what people are thinking when you're touching Taylor. And she's a power nullifier."

Shrugging, Lisa just let her smirk grow predatory.

"Maybe I'm just that good."

That got another snort of disbelief.

"No way. No one can be that good! Even if they have weird cold reading bullshit powers."

"As opposed to me possibly just being, you know, Ziz in human form. Because I could just be a good old fashioned mind reader!"

"Ladies, ladies. You're both beautiful." Taylor chuckled. "Now come on. Let's get to class."

* * *

Now, you'd think that most people would find it strange to have class alongside the bounciest piece of pink jelly that the world had ever seen. And while that was true to some extent, Taylor found there weren't many who treated her differently amongst Arcadia's student body. A far cry from the abuses he earned at the hands of Sophia and her cronies back in Winslow.

Not that anyone would try and pick on her now.

At least, no one she couldn't just gobble up.

'Being a slime has its advantages, after all.'

Because the simple truth was that she was no longer human.

She wasn't a tall, skinny girl with too large glasses.

She was an S Class threat according to the raving lunatics hidden in the cracks of the internet, a broken little girl according to the parents of social media, and the simple fact of the matter was that she had killed Lung.

If Taylor wanted to, she could eat this entire building. She could eat all of Brockton Bay. And if she tried really, really hard she could maybe eat the planet.

It had been a sobering discussion with her therapist. How she was one of the Capes considered to have the potential to end human life as they knew it. And even worse, she was a touch based power nullifier. Add that to her insane regeneration potential, exponentially scaling strength, and a Stranger rating growing with every passing day and, well, she spent a lot of time just thinking about what she wanted out of life.

Settling into her desk for first period, she flipped open her notebook and began to write down the math problems on the board. Her teacher, some cute guy, a twenty something, who dressed like he was fifty and had a resting face like a brooding adonis was probably her favorite.

Mr. Phillipus, his first name being Phillip, was a source of blatant envy, even more amusing puppy crushes, and unflinching discipline for the student body.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."

His accent was strong, being from the island of Sicily, and he spoke English slowly and precisely to ensure every word was clearly enunciated.

"Before we begin today, I would request that you all take out your homework from last night. Please turn to problems three and five, we will begin with those. Now, does everyone have their formula sheets or do I need to write out the equations for Sine, Cosine, Tangent, and their reciprocals again?"

Utterly no nonsense, working on his doctoral thesis for Morrissey College of Arts and Sciences. What it was actually in, no one knew for sure, but his crisp, formal tone, utter lack of tolerance for goofing off, and tendency to favor hard workers over the lazy but brilliant had made him a relatively feared young man.

All of that she had appreciated.

Of course, the fact she thought he was cute, but, well, experienced nothing else had been something else she'd talked about with her therapist.

She still experienced all of her emotions, perhaps even more keenly than before, but with a number of breathing exercises and focusing techniques she'd begun to truly combat the mood swings. And since medication was off the table for obvious reasons, she had really pushed hard on those. However, none of that had prepared her for one of the more… insignificant but simultaneously disturbing revelations of her new body.

That being her total asexuality.

Not that she had been a particular extroverted girl before, or had even had a boyfriend, she now simply didn't possess the capability to feel desire. Companionship, affection, even love and mutual respect. But she had utterly zero attraction to anything, male or female, human, robot, or angel shaped horror from the skies.

'Not that Emma cares. Or Lisa for that matter.' In fact, the teasing about finding her a dashing blue slime partner had even been encouraged.

How childish. Everyone knows Green Slimes are the most handsome!

And plenty of people still thought Ziz was a top tier waifu in spite of, or perhaps because of, the sheer scale of horror she inflicted.

It had been the source of a mutual appreciation between the two of them, her and Mr. Philippus that is. She didn't spend time ogling his jaw line and he busted his ass to get her up to scratch in mathematics. Months of hard work and brutal, grinding remedial lessons condensed into four weeks of maths Hell.

But when she didn't sleep and nothing else to do at night meant studying was something she'd gotten really, really good at.

Closeness, however, was something she utterly craved. Whether it was holding hands with her friends, or keeping a tendril attached to her father's ankle at home, or simply hugging people, it had become second nature. Something she seemed to instinctually crave.

Blessedly, that had never gotten as awkward as her having eaten someone's clothing. She had better control than that! Though, admittedly, she had eaten her own clothing more than once.

That and left behind a few… pieces on occasion. Keeping human shape was quite challenging, after all.

So in the end, being stuck half through puberty mentally and kicked to the end physically hadn't been a bad deal all told. Even if it took some getting used to. If Taylor closed her eyes, she could even pretend she was back in middle school, never back to that shithole Winslow, back before everything changed. Just listening to the teacher go on with class.

It was soothing.

'Now then…' She flipped through the pages. 'How did you get this done again?'

'Another day in school. Another day without falling apart in front of everyone.'

Taylor considered that an absolute win.

See. The thing about being a sudden transfer student with the worst case of awkward teenager in documented history was that it was hard to socialize and make nice with people when half of them didn't bother to remember your real name. Sure, some of them tried to, yet most could only recall her as Flask.

Another reminder to see about having that one changed.

She did NOT want to spend the rest of her career branded by whatever Armsmaster used to scoop her up after her initial blowout.

Unfortunately most seemed only interested to learn about her to sate their own curiosity. And always had a question or two at the ready whenever they thought she was comfortable. Then it was back to ignoring her once they had an answer. It was annoying, but in a sorta local celebrity way.

Normally, Taylor wouldn't have been able to move past that hurdle and simply resigned herself to not having any long term friends.

Normally, that is.

With Emma and later on Lisa joining the ranks of her fanclub. Taylor could finally say that she finally had more than a single friend. And that was as encouraging as it was disheartening.

The real surprise, however, was when she met her first cape outside of 'business hours'.

The Dallon sisters.

Victoria was outgoing and vivacious, Amy was as sullen as Taylor still sometimes could be. Not that she was rude, per se. But where the blonde's first instinct had been to hug the slime girl so hard her form ended up squished, the mousy, brown haired healer was just… tired.

Exhausted, burned out, used up, hollow like a coconut having its flesh cut away.

"Hey."

Panacea, her working name, waved at them.

"Emms! Lisa! Taylor! Come on over!"

Glory Girl needed less than ten seconds to go from gossiping with her circle of… admirers, Taylor was relatively sure half of them were crushing on the blonde bombshell, to involving both Lisa, whose mouth was already shooting off, and Emma, who glanced back at Taylor before the slime girl shooed her over.

She hadn't missed the way her oldest friend's mouth tightened. The corners of her lips turning down, the tension around her eyes, even the way her shoulders tightened.

But the redhead had turned, stepping into the flow of conversation just in time to redirect one of Lisa's barbs right back at the girl's own ego.

"Heya Amy. Got work tonight?"

Nodding, brown braids shifting as she did so, the healer mumbled something about "childhood diabetes being a real nightmare" and the slime girl pretended she knew what half the chemical reactions the girl mentioned were.

"Well, if you want, I could come up there? My probation rules got relaxed a bunch and Armsmaster's patrolling in that area tonight. I'm sure he wouldn't mind dropping me off."

Blinking, Panacea took a second before she responded.

"Uh, ok, I guess. I mean I wouldn't be able to sit and chat with you. But, um, you're a Ward right? And basically harmless. Maybe if you clear it with the hospital's director first?"

It was clear Amy was trying to politely tell her no. Something Taylor recognized from having done a thousand times herself. And so, leaning on Emma's own advice, she bulldozed right through.

"That would be great. I'm a Noctis Cape so I don't sleep anymore. And sitting around the house is just boring. Maybe I go up there and visit with some patients? Anyone lonely or something?"

Sighing, the healer agreed.

"Yeah. Tons of people are lonely. Literally half of them get visited once a week at best. People would probably appreciate having you to talk to. But I warn you, if you get told to get out-"

She held up her hands.

"I literally disappear under the door crack."

Eying her for a moment, the more subdued Dallon gave her a jerky nod.

"Taylorrrrrr!"

An annoyed growl from Victoria announced her imminent impact, the girl literally falling into the slime's body.

Not that it bothered Taylor any, but it was kind of amusing just how childish the heroine could act at times.

"You didn't give me a hug. And besides, Lisa mentioned how much you _looooove_ hugs from me."

Blushing, she picked Vicky up and righted her, chuckling, an act which had taken her dozens of hours to perfect, as she did so.

"That I do." Wrapping her pink army around Glory Girl's neck, she pulled the Alexandria package in tight. "Thanks Vicky."

Winking, the blonde turned back to her friends for a moment, answering a question Taylor hadn't heard. Somehow, for some unknown reason, it was the woman formerly known as Collateral Damage Barbie Doll that treated her the most like a human.

'Well, besides dad. And I suppose I actually haven't heard of her hurting anyone but criminals recently.'

In truth, the flying brick was going through a bit of an edgy phase. She was getting a little rough with suspects even though the number of civilians she'd injured had dropped to an all time low. Some people praised this, others were worried it meant she was about to start stacking bodies. Taylor found the thought patently absurd, of course, and had actually gotten a bit worked up when defending her kind of sorta friend.

The blonde pouted.

"Emma told us you were going to have a party and didn't wanna invite us. Tell me it can't be so! I thought we were the very best of friends! Emma was being a lying meanie, right?" Dramatically, the girl held her hand over her ailing heart. As if preparing for a blow.

The slime girl rippled with laughter.

"It's just a Union event, Vicky. Locks of families and friends getting together for dinner. Not really the party you're expecting. I've heard they were dusting up some oldies." She mock whispered the last part. As if imparting a secret.

"I could go for a burger." Lisa needled her way into the conversation.

Drawing the blonde's attention.

"Nuh uh! Hot dogs. That's where the good stuff's at!"

Lisa wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Not that cheap stuff made of leftovers, right? That stuff is not good for you. Even if it does end up going to those airbags of yours."

"You're just jealous because I'm not a plank like you."

"Ooh. Harsh, did you come up with it yourself or did you have to ask your sister for help? I've seen your english assignments."

Vicky did the mature things. Blowing a raspberry at Lisa before squishing the slime girl against her bountiful valley. Much to Emma's secret ire as she watched her sister in all but name flail about while trying to escape the busty heroine's embrace.

She met Amy's eyes, and the two shared a resolute nod.

Better to break this up before they ended up committing several crimes and offenses against parahuman law.

Aggravated assault, possibly!


End file.
